To Yearn for the Vast & Endless Sea

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

We gather for the last time here on Manda at the Akili Dance Studio to say goodbye. I ask one question: What will you take away from your time at the Sundance Institute East Africa Theatre Lab? Here are some of the replies:

• I am richer as a person and as an artist
• It has really touched my heart. I am more human.
• I go away absolutely certain of my abilities. I have seen what more is possible. I am a playwright.
• I thank God I have made new friends. I go back with loads of knowledge, challenged as a creator. I want to sustain the growth.
• A reinvigorated sense of hope for the theatre of East Africa.
• It’s nice to know I’m not alone, there are artists I share the same dream with.
• I feel “re-incarnated” in the theatre.
• I feel pressure now not to give up on that space between idea and production. Anytime you are in Uganda, I have that ‘space’ for you.
• I have happy tears. You have all re-defined who I am.
• Now we’ve become a family. I’m leaving this place a more rejuvenated Jacob.
• For me, like a dream comes true – to meet many artists in East Africa. Thanks Sundance for making this happen. This is a new beginning for us to create a network in East Africa. I hope there is a next and a next and a next and a next…
• I came as “Andnet”; I leave as CNN (note: we called him CNN because he was filming us every day, as our archivist).
• To me, this is a family now. Your Sundance have protected us in a way. Sundance has started and “we” have to continue it.
• I feel like I’m Kenya, I feel like I’m Ethiopia, I feel like I’m Uganda. I feel like I’m Rwanda.
• The important thing to me is ‘the space’.
• You’ve enriched me in ways you may not be able to know.
• I will miss the way we danced.
• The first thing I take away is the value of smile. And I learned the word: Dramaturg.
• I take away the power of listening. People here were listening.
• Thank you for being true to you so I could be true to me.
• I go back having learned to listen to the unsaid and unspoken.
• Our destiny is in our hands.

The last story I told was the confluence in my life of Antoine de Ste. Exupery’s THE LITTLE PRINCE. I am staying in a house called BAOBAB surrounded by Baobab trees. Sundance's Theatre Program recently developed a musical called SAINT EX, about this author and pilot. In Rwanda, we stayed in a hotel called Le Petit Prince. And this morning I found this quote. I recited it as we watched the sea from our Studio window:

"If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders. Instead teach them to year for the vast and endless sea.” -Antoine de Ste. Exupery

Deborah Asiimwe in Lamutown square performing a portion of THE BOOK OF LIFE

Becoming a Playwright on Manda Island

FROM SITAWA NAMWALIE (Kenyan Playwright/Poet)

I came to Manda Island on a Sundance retreat to work on my first production of dramatized poetry, “Cut off my Tongue” and to “take it to the next level”. Well I’ve done much more than that, I’ve tossed it out, and started on something entirely new. After two frustrating days I realized COMT is perfect as it is. I took the step to use this time instead to create something entirely new. 

I was extremely nervous to begin with. Here I was embarking on a quest to write a play. Would I succeed? 

Yes I did. After talking, talking, talking I settled on writing on what for me is dangerous. I told my own story. You see, I am a privileged African. My story does not conform to the things that have come to signify Africa. Poverty, hunger, famine, flies on faces, HIV/AIDS, war. In my experience no one wants to hear about that life. I was afraid that the other participants would be contemptuous of my story, declare it fake. “That is not the real Africa!” But they did not. They recognized the stories of their parents, their uncles who had similar experiences at the University of Nairobi. 

Instead of contempt I was left with the question. How will we know who we are and where we are as a people if we do not write much more from our contemporary lives? 

Giant Dragons and Condemned Goats

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

So, George Seremba, Christopher and I are sitting at breakfast at Baobab House and George suddenly has a look of horror creep into his face and I turn to see what he is seeing, and there is a HUGE Crocodile looking thing nonchalantly crossing our lawn. My heart leaps to my mouth, I yell for Bernard, our houseman, who comes running.

“Oh,” he says, “it’s harmless.” Harmless! I am sure it will bite my arm off in the least, and at most, devour me entirely. He laughs. I don’t. Turns out it is a Monitor Lizard and very rarely sighted on the Island. I am “lucky” I find out to have seen one. I know my mosquito netting is not going to save me from this creature who I’m convinced can crawl up the walls of the house and into my bedroom. I vow to shut the windows tight tonight, no matter how stuffy.

On the beach, a goat is waiting to die. I’m convinced of this. Every few days a lone goat is pulled on a rope to the water’s edge. He and his ‘owner’ are waiting for a boat. It takes awhile but the boat does appear and then the man lifts the unhappy goat into the boat and off they go. I know this man isn’t taking the goat for a pleasure cruise, nor to walk him as a pet through the streets of Lamu. This goat is going to be slaughtered, and I sense it knows it. I want to do a ‘goat rescue’ but I fear I’ll start an international incident.  Au revoir, petit chevre, I think.

Today was DeBrief Day. We gathered the group at Akili to hear their ideas and suggestions for the future.  Another dynamic and amazing conversation. Aside from the obvious and small complaints – more Ugali at Lunch, more ‘electricity ON’ hours for computer recharging (all of which we took to heart), the larger and more complex conversations were about Sundance’s own vision and the need for these artists not to be dependent on us in any way. There are many needs we can meet – more development, more mentorship particularly in the area of directing, workshops, ability for continued exposure to each other’s work and to western work, travel within Africa to see each other’s work and to collaborate etc. – but – everyone also knows that Sundance cannot take all of this on – and that based on what we hear, we will begin to craft a program that follows our own strengths as well as their expressed needs. We promise ourselves not to think too much about this immediately, to let time pass where we can grow to better and more deeply understand what we are learning. I take pages and pages of notes, and then pack them away.

Dinner was a quiet affair after a nice afternoon of swimming and packing our suitcases. The participants created a fun ‘awards’ show – the Mandas (named for the Island). Virtually everyone won something. I received: “Best Swahili Speaker” and was asked to do my acceptance speech in Kiswahili. “Lao Osha Punda”, I said. (Today, I wash the Donkey). One of our Tanzanians fell to the ground in laughter. Not sure why, but he laughed so hard he had to leave the area. I walked home in the moonlight alone, looked at the ghostly clouds passing overhead and knew that in a few days time this wll be but a dream.

Tomorrow, we will gather for formal goodbyes.

An Audience of Veiled Woman Watching Hip-Hop

This was “Lamu Day”. We had decided to spend a day in town, offering some performances to the locals, and also encouraging the local artists to join us to perform. It was a process full of blind alleyways and complications, but our terrific Lab Fellow, Alumbe Hellen, lead the way as she knew this community. After many Dhow trips into town and back, meeting with officials and with young people, we had a plan. Our women participants were required to dress very conservatively and even to wear head scarves and to cover their shoulders. They all looked quite gorgeous, I must say, piling into the Boat into town. We had rented a “sound system” if you can call it that, and even paid the Town Crier to go around announcing the free event. As I passed around town through the winding streets, I even knew a few locals by this time, and we greeted each other warmly. We had a lunch meeting with Errol Trzebinsky, a lovely older woman who had written the Biography of the character Bob Redford played in OUT OF AFRICA. She’s quite a charming person and was eager to know how we found our work on Lamu. At 4pm sharp, the show began. Our own Grace Ibanda emceed the show along with a local lad, and it alternated between snippets of the work we had done here and local talent – acrobats, actors doing skits, hip hop, singing, dance etc. For two hours it seemed the entire town had gathered on the square – children, men and women, totally veiled women, imams, the religious and the secular, babies – I stood in the center amid the crowd and watched this crazy ‘event’ unfold. And thought: how great that Sundance rented this funky sound system and acknowledged the people who live here, and acknowledged the homegrown talent and shared the space with them. Everyone had a great time. Lots of laughter from the crowd (often to my bewilderment) and hearty applause. By 6:15pm, the show was over as it was time for prayers and as quickly as they had arrived, the crowd dispersed. It was only then I recognized how exhausted I was (we all were), and yet, happy we had extended ourselves this way.

The ride home on the Dhow was special. The boat was packed. I perched on the edge up front and looked back at this crowd of Sundance artists, friends, the boat guys, and as darkness fell around us, and they sang and sang and sang, I was filled again with unspeakable wonder about how this came to be, where I was in this world, and how fortunate to have met these new friends, as we sailed and sailed home to Manda.

Rachael’s 30th birthday party was that night. A huge blow out for nearly 150 guests. I only stayed until Midnight, but got to see our own artists give Rachel the gift she will never forget – the Rwandans sang and danced, Mirsho recited in Swahili, and Sitawa read a poem she wrote. It was so joyous. I retired at midnight, though some of our crew stayed up all night to watch the sunrise.

The Ingredients

FROM CHRISTOPHER HIBMA:

As a producer, I am always fascinated where things come and what the ingredients are that make a successful experience. Today I sat down with Rachael from Diamond Beach and asked her to detail every member of her staff as well as who supplies the food we eat and where it comes from. By posting their names here, I honor their hard work and dedication to the Sundance Institute Theatre Lab on Manda. Here is a partial list. Remember that everything that exists on Manda was brought here by dhow from somewhere else. Everything. And made/modified/served/delivered/etc by hand...

Diamond Beach Village Staff

• Kazungu - Head Chef
• Patrick - Kitchen Staff
• Franklin - Kitchen Staff
• Athman - Dishwasher
• Kombo - Server
• Salim - Server
• Mwalimu - Rooms Manager
• William - Rooms Boy
• Anderson - Gardener
• Sylvia - Laundry & Staff Chef
• Kapala - Dhow Captain
• Muhammed - Night Watchman
• Hassan - Dhow Captain
• Mabai - Kisura House Manager

Food & Supplies

• All seafood (barracuda, white snapper, red snapper, prawns, calamari) is delivered by Salim and comes this time of year from the northern islands, because the open ocean near Diamond is too rough to fish in (Kazungu taught me how to gut and filet a fish last week!)
• Our chapatis, samosas and most Swahili food items are made across the bay in Shela by Amiri's wife and mother
• Milk and honey is delivered every morning by a guy who lives on Shela, but whose bees and cows are on Manda
• Country's dad supplies all of our raw greens, fruits & vegetables
• All of the crab we enjoy is harvested from the Mangrove trees along the water
• Diamond Beach has a 90,000 litre water tank for laundry and the garden. This rain water tank has fresh fish in it to eat the algae. 
• Diamond has a line from a desalination water tank on a neighboring property and is pressurized to deliver clean water to a 1500 litre tank drop by drop (prior to 2005 every bit of fresh water had to be delivered daily by dhow from Shela)
• Diamond has one dhow, but access to three (Diamond, Angalia and Renaldo)
• All of the furniture here is made from the Neem Tree by Saidi (the same tree whose leaves make a tea that Philip swears has cured him of every ailment)
• Diamond has electricity from 6:00-10:00pm only every day from a generator that runs on petrol
• All pillows, towels, silverware, glassware, blankets, bathroom supplies are flown in from Mombasa. 

It's pretty remarkable that we've had a successful Lab in a place that is markedly different from our locations in the U.S. I will miss this heavenly place and I'm sure that our participants will, too. There's nothing like having your morning tea while gazing out at the Indian Ocean. And then heading to work at a gorgeous dance studio along a pristine beach. Tomorrow we head into Lamu for some workshops and a performance sharing. More on that later... 

Chic in Shela

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

Last night, Sundance hosted a kind of thank you and farewell dinner for our Creative Advisors. Just after sunset, Christopher, Roberta, Deborah and I boarded the boat along with George Seremba and Liesl Tommy, for the Peponi Hotel. Also with us were Suhaila Cross and her daughter, Jasmine. Suhaila was truly the reason we were on this Island to begin with. She worked with KWANI TRUST, a Kenyan publishing house and had told us about Lamu a few years back. The Peponi Hotel is one of the more famous landmarks on Shela Beach, a rather upscale restaurant and Inn, frequented by European Tourists and others. At the Hotel Bar, we arranged to meet with Kevin Mwachiro, a reporter for the BBC in Nairobi who made a trip here to meet our participants and learn more about Sundance.

Dinner was outdoors near the pool under a FULL MOON! Quite the scene. And after the more humble (though delicious) food we had been served at Diamond Beach, this was our upscale splurge. The conversation was lively as we learned more from Kevin about the theatre scene and journalism in Kenya, and caught up on many of our thoughts as we near the end of this adventure. A light rain sent us scurrying inside for desserts and Kahawa (Coffee), and nothing quite topped the full moon ride back to Manda over rolling sea waters, filled with speechlessness for a part of the world so rarely visited by Americans.

Today was our formal “feedback day” for all the projects. We structured it quite differently from our usual conversations because these African artists very much want the entire community of lab participants to be present. So, we divided feedback into two sessions, In the morning, everyone gathered as one group, and Roberta lead a session in encouraging constructive comments . . .

“Adult education is a wonderful thing,” asserted Woody Alan, famously in ANNIE HALL. And so it is. My own education over the last two days, (not to mention the last almost three weeks) astounds me. The level of discourse in our room not only about people’s responses to the work (“What did you find compelling, surprising, satisfying?” “Where did you lose interest or drop out?”), but to the bigger conversations that were bursting to happen. What is theatre in East Africa? What defines an East African play? Who is our audience? Do we lead our audience? What is our language – both literally and physically? Often, I just observed as the volleyball of ideas went back and forth and in and among our five different nationalities represented (not counting American). There was no doubt that this opportunity to debate and to vent even, was a rare one. Sundance, in part, had made this possible, and we had to literally ask to defer some of the conversation to Wednesday when we have more time to de-brief.

In the afternoon we held more intimate conversations with each team, trying to ascertain where they felt they were in their work, and at times, pushing the envelope on encouraging their future explorations and experimenting. Honestly, this part of the process can fry one’s brain – working hard to stay on course, really hearing what the artist needs and where they feel they are at in their movement forward. Everyone of course is at a very different place, and ‘next steps’ are of much concern. “What will Sundance able to provide, if we are able to provide anything?” is a question that rings in our ears. We’ve opened up these folks to a way of working and paid close attention to their creative impulses. What now?

Rest

Today is a day off – well-earned.

Presentation Day

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

Today is Presentations Day at the Sundance Institute Theatre Lab on Manda. I am kind of incredulous: How did we get here? Through very hard work, indeed. In 2003 I make an initial visit to East Africa and this journey is set into motion. Several trips later over several years, and many East African visitors to Sundance shapes our decision-making. Amazing to remember that just two weeks ago, we sat for the first time as a group here on Manda, introduced ourselves and spoke about our hopes and aspirations for our time together and for our various projects. Since then, entire plays have been written, re-written, conceived, composed and staged.

We started the day at Diamond Beach with warm-ups. You could tell that everyone was jazzed, nervous, a bit tense about this special moment. I tried, best I could, to remind everyone that this was really a series of ‘open rehearsals’, and yet, these Africans LOVE to perform and I could tell that the joy of being onstage in front of an audience, and not just rehearsing behind closed doors, was very important to them. They spoke of wanting to be proud of their work.

The first project, Sitawa’s new play, BLACK MARIA, did not exist 10 days ago. Sitawa had discarded the work she had come with (a wonderful collection of poems that she had already performed many times in one format in Kenya) to start something brand new. This is the definition of “risk-taking”. She had never written a play before and she sat before us, resplendent in her turquoise African robe and matching head covering and began to read. Her story has two sections that alternate back and forth, beginning with a night just before her college graduation when she found herself the victim of police brutality, being arrested for walking with friends through a red light district of Nairobi, accused of prostitution. She is separated from her friends and thrown into the back of a ‘paddy wagon’ – a Black Maria – and a nightmare begins. This story alternates with her first semester of college, coming from a very privileged home and not understanding yet the breadth of Kenyan life. We laughed at her learning to wash her clothes, and cringed when she described her defending the family driver coming to pick up her dirty laundry. And then we were held fast by the saga of that night in the Black Maria. How she wove the two tales together was masterful and moving. Everyone celebrated this achievement with long applause. There is work ahead and many questions, but she is well on her way.

Then we moved from the “Blue Moon Bar” where Sitawa had read, to the Yoga Studio at Diamond Beach, where the first scene of Adong Lucy Judith’s play, SILENT VOICES was staged, a play about the legacy of violence in Northern Uganda. Five actors played a variety of roles in this multi-genre piece and after the first scene was viewed, we all moved back to the Blue Moon Bar for a reading of the entire one-hour play. How Judith had gently and utterly re-organized the piece she had come with did not escape anyone’s notice. Her play, which was originally chronological now followed a mysterious emotional arc, filled with suspense and layers. Most moving to me were Judith’s remarks following the reading – her thanking of the cast, the advisors and Sundance for giving her ‘that space between idea and production’ where she could truly experiment. That brought tears to my eyes.

After lunch, we moved to yet a third space, Akili, to watch the Rwandan project, THE BOOK OF LIFE. These particular artists never fail to provoke tears. With original choreography, music, gorgeous singing, we observe two real life letters, adapted for the stage, that tell the story of widows, remembering the happy times and their loved ones before the horror of the Genocide. I look to see tears streaming down the eyes of many participants, even though the play was in a language almost no one understood – Kinyarwanda.  The power of theatre defies merely the spoken word. The complexity of emotion comes through the notes and the dance just as well. I will never forget the image of Deborah Asiimwe walking across that large wooden dance floor, and one by one discarding into the air bits of paper, of memory perhaps?, and walking out the door into the light.

After tea, we met for the final presentation of Mrisho Mpoto’s adaptation (along with co-writers Irene Sanga and composer Elidady Msangi of a letter of Nigerian activist Ken Sero-Wiwa. They had created a site specific event in the bottom floor of AKILI, with rope defining a jail cell. Having translated the originally English text into Kiswahili, Mrisho inhabited the character and with his customary larger than life performance, railed at us from behind the bars, made us smile and cringe. Music composed by Elidady floated in from behind a wall and at the end, the three musicians entered, with drum and guitar and played together. Original melodies that galvanized the crowd. A few subtitles were projected on the wall alongside the action, but this piece was entirely in Swahili. Afterward, the director Gilbert Lukalia, a Kenyan, gave us a short re-cap of the story. For a time no one moved. I think we all got this moment – we were done with this chapter of the Lab; we had shared in the difficulty and the glory of coming to this moment, and before we moved on to analyzing and discussing in the days ahead, we wanted to bask in the accomplishment.

For my part, I dove into the Indian Ocean and watched a sunset while a DHOW glided past me, it’s billowing sail full with warm wind. I can’t really express the emotion of this all. Not yet.

Last night at Diamond Beach, we blasted into our party – with a combination of amazing Afro-beat and American (Michael Jackson, R Kelly, Beyonce) music blaring into the night. I danced a bit – but when this now 57-year old realized my heart rate wasn’t returning to normal all that quickly, I sat and observed. Many locals had come to join us – young boys in baseball caps, and a woman in a buibui sat together. By 10pm, locals and Sundancers were dancing wildly together (until 4am!). I marveled at what had transpired here – how my life was different and how I imagine the local folks see us, too.

Manda Is My Mother

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

Why we are here? Today was Moise’s birthday. This 24 year old Rwandan singer and musician has a voice that is truly indescribable. Watching rehearsals of BOOK OF LIFE, and watching and hearing him sing, makes your heart burst and melt.

He told us that he had never ever celebrated his birthday. SO we celebrated his birthday for the first time today. In the morning, we sang and carried him around the studio. And tonight under a nearly full moon, after dinner, the staff of Diamond Beach, came in carrying a cake they had made themselves, and drumming and singing. Moise was overwhelmed. He burst into a dance, a beautiful Rwandan dance of his own devising, and simply could not believe that his NAME was written on the homemade cake. Later he said to us: “Manda is my mother, Sundance is my father. And I was re-born today!” 

We are a day away from final presentations. There has been some ‘drama’ outside of rehearsal as well as in the rooms. Folks are nervous and this new play development process is still a new feeling. Some artists seem to ‘get it’ quickly and others are not quite sure on what it really means for them. We are learning a great deal about communicating well and about what we may need to adjust to make ‘next time’ even better. I do know – for certain – that each of the four plays has grown immeasurably. I sat with Sitawa today and helped her organize her brand new pages – a new play! – into sections, proposing how to divide and re-assemble the work so that a theme might emerge, and so that a sense of rhythm, tone, and contrast might best support the story she wishes to tell. This piece, BLACK MARIA, is like a ‘newborn’ – and I just want her to see options. This poet is becoming a storyteller and playwright. And she is thrilled.

It’s hard to believe we only have seven days left. The final four will be taken up with de-briefs and round table conversations about the work itself. Our photographer, Philippa Ndisi-Herrmann, visited us today and took lots of shots of rehearsals, and the company relaxing and our meals together. Also a big group shot including the fabulous staff of men and women who have run Diamond Beach and supported us.

Oh – and I ordered my breakfast in Swahili today and actually got what I ordered.

Progress on all fronts.

Tomorrow I Will Wash The Donkey

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

Walking home after dinner tonght, the moon was three quarters full, and so I didn’t need my ‘torch’ to light my path. My own shadow was striking against the white sand, and the ocean waves caught the moonlight.  Magic.  fter dinner we watched a brief video by our Ethiopian fellow, Andnet, and then several actors (including our own Roberta Levitow) read the first scene of his play in English, which Roberta had translated from its original Amharic along with the author. It was lovely. Wayne MacGregor and his partner Antoine joined us for dinner as well.

I had spent the day in Lamutown, along with our fellow, Allumbe Hellen and Christopher. We were there to meet with the Director of Education and a group of about a dozen young artists – dancers, musicians, singers, poets, actors – who we’d asked to be identified by the district commissioner to participate in our July 27 performance sharing outside the Old Fort in the Main Square. The kids were lovely, and we spoke with them in a combination of English and Swahili (Hellen is  a beautiful Swahili speaker). By the way, my own Swahili classes are coming along just fine! Roberta, Christopher and I meet with Bernard each night before dinner and he’s prepared a lesson. I can say: “Tomorrow I will wash the Donkey”, among other useful phrases. I even ordered a piece of cake in Swahili to day in a café in town. I think the waiter was impressed.

There are some tensions at the Lab, which is not unusual for three days prior to final presentations. The Ugandan project has changed lead actors a few times – once against our own advice but, in the end we allow the playwrights to make their own decisions, even if we strongly feel another way. We are on a vast learning curve, for sure. We so don’t wish to impose a system on this fragile culture, and yet there are times where we do feel that our experience in new play development really should trump! As we move onto our final week, it’s hard not to let ideas percolate about what could work better ‘next time’, and new structures that might more keenly match to the needs of this diverse group of artists.

Ibanda Grace has been sick for a few days. We called the doctor in from Lamu and he said that she had a slight case of pneumonia and an ulcer. Within 48 hours with some medicine, she is already better and re-joined us for lunch and dinner tonight. We miss her spirit at ‘warm up’s because much of the time, she is our leader. Today, however, Sitawa did a gorgeous opening exercise which was neither vocal nor physical. She asked each person to remember the moment they received their Sundance invitation and to recall the excitement and anticipation those few months back, and then to re-invest in that original impulse. We then wandered around the studio and re-introduced ourselves to each and every person, looking each person in their eyes and sharing our full name. It was sort of a ‘genius’ exercise and I was very grateful to her for creating it.

There are two days left of rehearsal before we share our final presentations. Even though we stress the non-competitive and relaxed open atmosphere, people undoubtedly get stressed. Truly, having this ‘goal’ to show work is a good thing, as long as it doesn’t supercede the work itself. We shall see.

Music Everywhere

FROM CHRISTOPHER HIBMA:

At the moment, I'm sitting in the lower level of Akili, the gorgeous studio that Wayne MacGregor has given us to use for the Theatre Lab. He  and his partner arrived on Sunday for some rest and relaxation. I am listening to the Tanzanians sing with their robust and unadorned voices next door, punctuated by their staccato Swahili (a beautiful language). For the last few mornings, around 7:45am, Mrisho has wandered through Diamond Beach gently waking us up with his singing. What a fantastic way to greet the morning. In the studio above me, I hear the Rwandans sending their stark and haunting voices into the morning air. Last night as dinner was being cleared away, I walked by the kitchen and the staff were singing at the top of their lungs as they washed our dishes. Smiles blazing in the dark night. Daily, I pass a small girl about three years old playing by herself in the beach sand with her imaginary friends. Her friends must like to sing, because she sings all day long to them. Music oozes from the pores of our friends here. Even nature is making its own music. We have been drenched with short periods of rain over the last few days. Then, bright sun appears briefly between the clouds before the rain continues its patter. And now, between the showers, I hear the wind pick up then slow down as it prepares for another downpour. Even the mosquito bites on my legs remind me of the nubs on the drum of a player piano. Am I delirious? Music indeed.

Ua Mbo

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

This is our second day off and everyone seems to need it. It rained hard in the early morning hours and I awoke to find a centipede the size of Rhode Island on my towel. Bernard hastily disposed of it: the look on my face must have told him that he’d have an apoplectic artistic director on his hands if he didn’t get to it! Some in our group have ventured into Lamutown but most everyone is happy to stay around to read, write, and just relax in the sunshine, or in the waves. 

After a lunch of homemade Shrimp Burgers (so much for the hope I’d lose weight in Africa), a few us took a small boat across the bay to Shela Beach, where many ex-pats have their homes (it’s kind of a ‘suburb’ of Lamu Town). The famed Peponi Hotel is here, where many tourists relax after their ‘rigorous five star safaris’ on the mainland. We were searching for a gallery whose owner sells some amazing local photography. Christopher and I wandered through the narrow alleyways, with donkeys passing us here and there (no people, just donkeys), and got to the gallery, ONE EYE, to find that it was closed. Perhaps next week.

As I write this, a torrent of rain commences seemingly out of nowhere. Wasn’t the sun hot and shining just moments ago? It’s a deluge and one is reminded that we are smack dab on the equator, with these tropical bursts just one aspect of the exotic clime.

Sunday night was our first formal Kiswahili lesson with our house’s caretaker, Bernard. Roberta and Christopher (who have studied before) and I sat around the table and Bernard had prepared a first lesson. I was the dunce of the class, and my Swahili sounds a lot like Yiddish at times, but I do try my best. I am determined to learn a few key phrases that will help me.  The most useful seems to be "Ua mbo" (Kill the mosquito).

PS  Now the sun is brilliant again!

Pictures & Action

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

We are at the end of our first full work week and true to form there are some struggles along with the joy.  One is a project where director and writer are not quite seeing eye to eye, and a gentle intervention by the creative advisors has hopefully allowed this team to segue into a more productive and understanding period. Composers are feeling a bit blocked; choreographers not pleased with their own output. These pieces of the process are familiar to all of us but that does not make them any more comfortable. At our morning get-together and warm up, I remind the group to be kind to themselves and to each other; to leave space for ‘mistakes’, and to truly take tomorrow off as a day away from work.

I visit Sitawa who is beginning her brand new play – about coming from her life of privilege in Nairobi to her first year of University and learning just how narrow her upbringing had made her – stories of washing her clothes for the first time and eschewing her family’s support. We discuss writing ‘pictures’ and ‘action’ rather than ideas and pronouncements and she digs into the tough work of putting words on paper.

Amimo and I discuss her interest in working on a short monologue that she’s just discovered and her desire to hopefully perform it in Lamu next week when we travel there for our public presentations. She suggests that if and when we return to this Lab, we think about a composer and choreographer “advisor” as well as those who are more familiar with text and directing. A great idea.

I sit with Mrisho at lunch (Fish cakes and Shrimp Fritters) and he talks again about the power of Stew’s performance in PASSING STRANGE and his appreciation of the detail of gesture and language. It is good to know that we can spur conversation about the work by exposing these artists to other projects created by Sundance alum.

Roberta is working with our Ethiopian artist, who is here as more of an observer and is also filming the Lab daily, in part for our own archives and in part because CNN Online in London has requested footage. Andnet Dagnew is a playwright and director and we have asked him to translate a portion of his play from his language, Amharic into English – with Roberta’s guidance – so that he can read it to us next week – in its original tongue and then in English.

Christopher, Roberta and I check out a few other residences on the Beach, just in case a future Lab calls us back here, and then we trundle further down the beach to visit the very high end hotel, The Majlis, which sits, like a giant sentry on the opposite end of Manda from where we are staying. It’s five star all the way, rooms as high as $2,000 per night (The Royal Suite), and filled with all the amenities of a European Resort.  We don’t actually feel that comfortable there, but we do peek around. A good place to house ‘potential donors’ if they were to visit us in this place.

At dinner a new member of our group as arrived. Hellen Alumbe is a master storyteller and actress, whom I had met on my very first trip to Kenya in 2004. At that time, I noted her charisma and power as a traditional storyteller and so when we returned in 2008 and we became re-acquainted (at a performance sharing where Charlayne Woodard told a story and then Hellen’s company did as well), I was thrilled to see her again. Hellen has a special connection to the Lamu community, and so we invited her to join us in our final ten days here to lead us in our connecting to the local folks. We hope to work with a youth drama group on one day, and do a performance in town toward the end of our stay. So our artist group is now complete!

Bravery & Freedom

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

Two local Mandan guys, Abu and Answar, who have been friends for 16 years and who own a Dhow (sail boat), invite Christopher and myself for a sunset ride. On the way to the boat, after rehearsal, we see a  young guy washing his two donkeys in the ocean. The donkeys aren’t too thrilled to be dragged up to their necks in the salt water but the guy perseveres and the donkey’s get their bath. The boat glides through the waves and up through the Mangroves where we understand the rich catch of crab is plentiful all the time. (which is also why we’re eating so well.)

At the Lab over the last few days, participants are hitting their proverbial ‘walls’ which is what always seems to occur as a Lab gets to its midpoint. Sitawa has decided that the project she came with is not the project she wishes to ‘re-write’. Instead she will start a new piece, and so all of the creative advisors meet with her Friday morning to bounce some ideas around. It’s brave and it’s one of the freedoms of working at Sundance – to change mid-stream, to go out on a limb and start afresh. We work hard to ask the right questions, to inspire her to think specifically about her writing, and when the meeting breaks up I sense that she is truly ready to plunge in. (Later that day she tells me she has pages of a first draft of several stories and I look forward to reading them in the next day.)

In other rooms different activities continue to take place – choreographer and music in the Rwandan and Tanzanian project, lots of detailed re-writing in the Ugandan play. People are spread out all over our various living and working spaces, and sometimes we have to corral everyone to remind them to let us know just where they are meeting and rehearsing. It’s more free-form than at Utah, but equally intense.

We are becoming real Mandan citizens, it seems. Always a bit sticky from the weather and either salty from the sea or covered with a tiny film of mosquito repellent. Lots of smiles. Lots of excitement. A bit of anxiety – will the work get done?

A Birthday To Remember

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

At dinner last night, at Diamond Beach, I sat with Sitawa, our Kenyan poet/playwright to pose some questions to her about her past and the “why” of her story. We are trying to identify what pieces of her own experience might frame the poetry of her play. Her father was a good friend to Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta, and she grew up in a life of privilege. Now, she sees her father, in his late seventies, struggling to understand the disappointment of the Kenyan people and the loss of hope in their leadership.  She speaks about the changes in her life since the PEV (Post Election Violence) and how it opened a door for her to have conversations with her closest friends about sensitive topics that could never before be discussed. She is from the Luhya people, of the West, and has experienced a share of discrimination because of this. The profound influence of tribal origins comes to me in wave after wave of stories. I think in one day my understanding of Kenyan history, told to me by a Kenyan, has increased 100 fold. And of course, I have much to learn.

Suddenly in the middle of our conversation, we hear high pitched screeching, and out of the pitch darkness of the beach come a dozen Masai Warriors, in their striking red gear, pierced and be-decked, and they dance around us and so - this is my official birthday celebration (arranged by Deborah and Christopher).  Of course – being the theatre nerds we are – we all join in. Their singing reverberates from a place that is akin, to my mind, to the purring of a cat – deep inside their bodies and souls. And they jump meters into the air, showing off for us, and for each other just how high they can jettison their bodies. These are the spiritual holders of Kenyan life. I think of the Hopi of Arizona who never made a pact with the United States government and so live a life of poverty in the windy rocky hills of the Arizona Mesas. These Masai have suffered tremendously due to recent drought and so the loss of their cattle, their livelihood. Many are here to raise funds to replenish their cows, and they sell their jewelry to us as a way to return home. I buy it up, convincing myself that I’ll look perfectly “cool” wearing it, on the IRT come September.

What a birthday. But the best part comes last, when Moise, our young Rwandan singer, stands with me at the Bar and without any prompting unfurls his gratitude for our finding for him a paradise (“an Eden” – meaning, a place of Innocence), here at this Sundance community. He is fairly breathless to express the profundity of what he discovers here, as an artist and among new friends. This makes turning 57 pretty great.

Today, warm ups followed by each project rehearsing. Judith has done a fairly large re-write of the first half of her play, incorporating notes we shared yesterday but with her own distinct manner of expressing the very individual manner she is compelled to unveil to us. After observing a staging of the very first new scene, we all gather to ask more questions, prodding her and her director to go even deeper. They are open and excited to talk, and a good healthy exchange of ideas occurs. (Would that all the Sundance Utah Lab participants be always this willing to engage!).

Lunch of giant Prawns awaits.

Later on this day, after dinner, Christopher and I show the Spike Lee film of PASSING STRANGE, which began its life as a play in our Utah workshop – on two occasions. A couple of the artists had seen the play in New York a few years ago. The crowd is mesmerized, watching the film unfold on the wall of our Blue Moon Bar, under a real sliver of a moon that reflects on the waves of the Ocean. Stew’s performance and those of this fantastic cast, bring laughter and applause from our Lab folks, and I can’t help remembering how this unique and powerful piece of theatre got its legs at the Sundance Institute Theatre Lab. I wonder what plays we are now supporting on Manda might find their own enthusiastic life and audiences. It’s the perfect time to show this movie and to talk about its genesis. It inspires our Lab fellows to much conversation.  We’ve brought it halfway around the world.

From one crab lunch

FROM RACHAEL FEILER (Proprietor of Diamond Beach Village)

I have known about Sundance for 18 months, the first and only time I have met anyone from Sundance was when I picked Roberta Levitow up in Lamutown by boat and brought her to Manda Island for lunch at Diamond Beach. We spent the day on Manda looking at various houses and Akili, Wayne MacGregor's dance studio, and then one year later I get an email to ask if they can book!

It is such an honor to host Sundance Institute Theatre Lab. Before they arrived I was very aware of what a huge deal it was for Diamond, Manda and Lamu to have Sundance hosted in this archipelago. Over the past week or so, having started to get to know the participants and organisers I am blown away by the talent and the beauty of the people surrounding me. As each day goes by I feel more and more 'blessed' as Phillip would say to host them and have them on Manda soil. To have these artists using a space that was created by my Mum, herself an artist, and to see Diamond 'alive' and being used by such talented people is really a joy to watch.

What really strikes me is the incredible amount of trust that has been put into me by Sundance. From one crab lunch 18 months ago they assumed I could  prepare lunch and dinner for 21 days for 21 people! So far no one has gone hungry but we are not Utar and never will be, I am sure Utar has it all wrapped up and the last thing to be thought about by the creative directors is catering and sleeping arrangements. Manda is a totally different story, supplies can be difficult, there is very little variety we can't just run to the shop if we forgot butter... that reminds me, I think we have forgotten butter...

It feels like we are celebrating Diamonds 10^th Birthday in a way, to get to where we are now has been a lot of blood sweat and tears also a lot of laughing, swimming and meeting fantastic people from all over the world and it feels like those years where a build up to this. To have such a internationally-known company choose Lamu out of the whole of East Africa is quite something. To have them at Diamond is a feeling I can't put into words. If (god forbid) a tsunami took Diamond out tomorrow, or on the 29^th July, I would feel content to at least say I had hosted Sundance Theatre Lab. 

You wake up, you begin

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

I wake up to this, my 57^th birthday, praising the world that I can spend it at work in such a place. At our warm up in the Dance Studio, everyone sings the Kenyan version of “Happy Birthday” which includes dance and in the end, lifting me up above their heads and carrying me around. No words...

We break into groups to start in earnest ‘doing’, less talk. I am scheduled to meet, however, with our Ugandan writer, Judith Adong and her Kenyan director, Jacob Otieno, to explore where she is in her re-writing, after our first feedback. She wants more feedback, so I decide to “show” rather than “tell”, by creating a ‘map’ of her play, on tiny pieces of paper. I create one idea for how to raise dramatic tension and focus on her protagonist most effectively, being careful to remind her it is just ‘one idea’ and that I’m doing it to demonstrate what I mean by dramatic action and tension, not to give her an answer.  I love her engagement and when she presents me with her re-write thusfar, without any conversation, she has already plotted her first three scenes in line with what my suggestion was. We are on the same page. We don’t talk much more; I let her go continue the writing on her own.

By the afternoon, everyone is seriously in the groove, having found ‘their space’ – both literally and figuratively, to work their project. Roberta is attached to the Rwandan play, and is creating a tri-language script – Kinyarwanda to French to English so that we can all be in tune, line by line, with what is happening onstage. Deborah Asiimwe, though Ugandan knows enough Kinyarwanda to partner in this. We have found a way.

Today at our afternoon tea break, Moise, a Rwandan musician with a spectacular singing voice, says in slow English (French being his native tongue): “Now I finally get Sundance. It is not like torturing yourself at midnight when creating something. You take your time. You think, you share, you create with friends. You do not rush. It’s life. You wake up, you begin...”

Engaged in the Doing

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG:

Overheard at lunch today (crabmeat sandwiches and salad and fresh taramind juice):

Rachael: Christopher, there is no portable printer in Lamu. We have to send away from Mombassa for one.

Christopher: Is it the same price?

Rachael: Yes, the man who sells them is a concrete salesman and he has some printers on the side.

Christopher: Bring it on!

Now we are in the groove. Yesterday, Tuesday, July 13 was the day that the Rwandan project, BOOK OF LIFE, met with the advisor team, to work in a more detailed way through how they would launch rehearsals. Wesley, the choreographer spoke about the poems that touched him most, and particularly one that he felt in his gut would be the play’s opening. We encouraged him to follow his heart on that, and he explained in much detail (French, which Roberta translated into English) the initial sequences. In structural terms, they wish to divide the book into “chapters” that follow an emotional rather than ‘story arc’. Music is being created (a lullabye for the first part) and movement as well. Liesl Tommy (we’ve come to call her the “Jezebel” of the Lab – because of her sensuously clad legs) is guiding this one.

In the afternoon, we tackle the Tanzanian project, AFRICA KILLS HER SON (SUN). The director speaks (in lovely English) about the first ‘beats’ of this piece and then Roberta asks a big question: “Why?”  “Why are you compelled to tell this story at this moment?” This creates a beautiful opening for conversation, lead, in part by our lead artist, Mrisho Mpoto, who asks to speak in Kiswahili so he can better communicate his deepest thoughts. Gilbert translates. I sit there listening to this passionate Tanzanian pouring his heart out in his native language, and recognize that we are having as intense an exchange as any we’ve had in English in America. Isn’t that amazing! The talk goes deeper and deeper – and takes a good deal of time, of course. 

When we break for tea, the Rwandans are outside under a huge Baobab Tree moving to music. The site is quite lovely. Everyone is engaged in the doing.

After dinner (vegetarian Moussaka, fresh fish, Ugali, Rice and Pineapple Crumble), we gather to watch the Philip Glass scored 1983 film, KOYAANISQATSI, which I brought thinking it would not require language to appreciate, and that the depiction of our natural world vs the man made world, would stir some insight.  Not sure the film has quite ‘held up’ to time, but it was a nice segue to the end of a busy day and to our sleep time.

Digging In

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG (Producing Artistic Director):

That the young Rwandan dancer eating his lunch across from me was imprisoned in the Congo, at 17, just for being Rwandan, makes it quite hard to see him in the exact  same way I saw him before I learned this.  He looks so young, I would say the epitome of “innocent” – lithe, and full of the most gorgeous smiles, and a warm laugh. I try feebly to speak French with him, though his English is pretty perfect. We share some Neme Tea at lunch. Yes, this aging Jew with the nervous stomach got kind of out of balance yesterday. As my neurotic mind imagined landing in Lamu Hospital, where one of the doctors is a veterinarian for the town Donkeys, I was offered a “horrible” tasting tea made from the leaves of a local tree, which is purported to cure 40 diseases. I’m not sure which 40 diseases, but at that moment it didn’t seem to matter. I sipped it (along with Stoney’s Ginger Beer) and lo and behold, felt 100 percent better in an hour. Now I’m hooked. I think I’ll bring it back to New York, and sell it to Whole Foods as “Phil’s Fabulous Forty Disease Potion”.  Anyhow, life on Lamu.

Today, Monday was a big workday. Two of the four projects were to read their scripts in their entirety aloud and then receive feedback. First, however, Grace, one of the company choreographers, suggested that we all meet as one big group, to “bond” again in the morning, after breakfast, and to do some physical warm-ups as a group. How wonderful was that? She had us twirling dizzyingly on the ballet floors, and sweating up a storm. Loved it, though I did suggest that she have a separate set of exercises for us “elders”. Sadly, she agreed.

At tea break, news hit us on our various cell phones that a bombing in Kampala had killed 60 people.  Immediately there was conversation and a lot of contacting of friends to be sure all was okay. Amazing how the entire group rallied around our Ugandan guests to assure that they were able to talk through their anxieties. So far, everyone everyone knows is safe and sound.

The morning was our time to meet with Kenyan poet/writer Sitawa and her collaborator/choreographer Amimo on their project CUT OFF MY TONGUE. We sat and she read us all of her poems, some of which prompted much emotion in her – much to her surprise. She said she had not taken the time, lately, to quietly reconnect with her text. What followed was a question and answer session, lead gracefully by Liesl Tommy, concerning what Sitawa wished her piece to be, and the deep questions the content of the poetry raised – identity as a Kenyan, history known and history erased, tribal connection and tribal interference, post-election violence and the threat of what could come. We spoke of the ‘the stakes’ of her piece and the round-table was as powerful and exciting as any at Sundance in Utah. She is oh so ready to tackle the next re-write of this project and to add new writing and organize around a dramatic structure. 

Lunch of Shrimp and Beef burgers followed back at Diamond Beach and as the surf crashed in the background and the dog, Obama, wandered around the tables, we chatted and laughed, and drank more Neem Tea, made faces. Moise from Rwanda got bitten by some flying African beast and Rachel quickly applied fresh Aloe to his neck and because it swelled, I ran back to get my homeopathic Apis and Christopher some good old anti-histamine. Crisis averted.

After lunch, it was time to meet and hear a reading of Judith Adong’s play, SILENT VOICES, from Uganda.  We had strongly urged Judith to read the play aloud herself but she and her director, Jacob Otieno, insisted they hear it in actor’s mouths as a cold reading. Being Sundance, we said: “we are here to do what feels right for you.” And so they did, and we sprawled out on the floor of the dance studio and heard this unique, daring and frightening play about a mother who murders children to retaliate for the death of her family during the war up north. One thinks MEDEA and ANTIGONE – the bravery of going so far with a story is what attracted us to Judith’s writing. There was a general conversation following the reading with the cast and the audience (something again we never do in Utah, but what our Ugandan artists wished to do). It was very helpful and after tea and some snacks back at Baobab house, we re-convened with Judith and her director and choreographer, Grace, to talk in more detail about what work might lay ahead. George Seremba, Roberta, Liesl and I took turns asking questions of Judith and prodding her to experiment with structure and order. She seems more than game and grateful for the focus on her work.

What a day! As rigorous and thought-provoking as any in our Sundance Theatre Lab history.

I sit here now being devoured by mosquitoes, on my balcony (but I’ve applied LOTS of super poisonous DEET to dissuade them), and listen to the waves, and get ready for our dinner. I think about how lucky I am to meet these folks  -  and how caught up my life in New York sometimes gets as I hustle to work on the number one train, or fret over what feels now like a very inconsequential deal in a contract. Perspective is just one gift of this residency.

Yesterday, our day off, was a day that most of our Lab participants spent in LAMUTOWN, but I stayed behind to prepare for this work day. So, I’ll let Christopher Hibma relate to you what Sunday, July 11 was all about.

FROM CHRISTOPHER HIBMA (Associate Director):

After a relaxing morning where some of us took in the ocean and a leisurely breakfast, 17 of us waded through the shallow water to board two Dhows bound for Lamutown. Since the World Cup Finals were on Sunday, sides were quickly determined and one dhow rooted for Spain and the other for the Netherlands. And since it was a breezy afternoon, the dhow captains unfurled their sails and we sailed seamlessly over the water to Lamutown. One dhow then the other alternating the "lead." A vast amount of cheering and jeering ensued.

After landing a Lamutown, we each went our separate ways to enjoy the village. Deborah Asiimwe and I went in search of a cash machine and internet access (I'm so Western...). We then met up with some members of our group and enjoyed the patio of a local hotel while we sipped Krest (a soda) and had some ice cream. Amimo took the opportunity to get henna tattoos up and down both arms.

Six o'clock came quickly and we headed back to Manda... ah, blessed Manda. I, for one, looked forward to our return because Manda ("our" island) is truly a safe haven and a place to clear one's mind.

I brought a new projector with me from the U.S. and arranged for the World Cup Final game to be broadcast from it using Rachael's satellite feed. I loved that the Blue Moon Bar was quickly filled with our participants and roughly 40 locals who cheered into the night. Philip talks a lot about being blessed here, and I have to agree. The cool night air, scented by the nearby ocean, encourages all of us to "go there." Wherever "there" is. A place where time and space and be suspended for a brief moment. A place where the pressures of our lives are momentarily put aside in favor of friendship and artistry. Today was the first day that I saw our participants begin to relax and embrace the environment. Elidady plucking his guitar in the corner, Grace improvising with movement to his music, Moise nursing a glass of red wine and Irene chatting about the Tanzanian project with her colleagues under the stars. 

Ubuntu

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG (Producing Artistic Director):

Orientation dinner was lovely, though I sensed that sleep is what everyone needed most. We had drinks at the Blue Moon Bar and just before dinner, I addressed and welcomed our guests. I reminded them that our ‘theme’ for this Lab was what Deborah Asiimwe wrote about Sundance when Keri Putnam, our executive director at the Sundance Institute asked all the staff to think about “WHY” we work for Sundance. Deborah wrote: “When I think of Sundance I think of the Kiswahili word, UBUNTU, which means ‘Humanness’. Its definition is: I am because WE are, and because we are, I am.” I cannot think of a more succinct description of what I feel at that moment. Deborah and Roberta also welcomed the group and then the owner of Diamond Beach, Rachel, told us the story of how she came to be there and a little advice about life on this Island. Food was served – veggies and noodles and rice, and Ungali (corn with minced meat), and beef and a whole fish carved up before us. We ate and talked in small groups, after which Christopher one by one passed out our daily schedules and our Lab Books – which he had carried from New York (no way to print and bind of all that on site). We reimbursed folks for their travel expenses and gave them part of their honorariums. I feel they now know that we will do what we promised to do – give them a safe space to work, to commune, and to recognize how we value their artistic gifts to this world. Sleep was welcomed by one and all.

And then we wake up to Day One.

Breakfast of Banana Pancakes with home made orange sauce (oh my god!) at Diamond Beach and then we head to the amazing Studio for our first meeting. Deborah spoke eloquently about just how Sundance at Manda came about and then I addressed the folks about our vision and our flexibility around that vision. I described how Sundance in the USA worked and what we’ve learned over the last decade about what supports theatre artists most beautifully. I suggested that we begin with the Sundance “model” and after a few days respond to what corresponds best to their world. I can’t express the warmth and camaraderie already among our guests. There is joy here on Day One.


Roberta spoke about our history in the region and we opened the discussion up to everyone. To a person, there is an excitement and electricity in the air – being “exactly where they need to be” to work on their plays and to commune with their colleague. The sun sparkles on the Indian Ocean outside and the huge thatched roof above our head is like a protective cover over us. After a morning tea break, the two creative advisors, Roberta and myself meet with each project team individually for 45 minutes to hear what their plans are for their time here, where they are in their process and what they ‘need’ from us. Kenyan Sitawa comes with her “choreopoem”, CUT OFF MY TONGUE. She is accompanied by her choreographer, co-performer and singer, Amimo. Judith Adong from Uganda and her director Jacob Otieno speak about the genesis of her piece, SILENT VOICES, about child soldiers in Northern Uganda, where she spent many months working and getting to know these kids. We get clearer on what path may lay ahead for us, how we can be helpful and perhaps how we can challenge them. Lunch is next – chicken and amazing Calamari at the beach, and I have time for a ten minute dip in the ocean before we re-convene. Back at the Studio, we meet with the Rwandan team – choreographer Wesley and his musicians, Moise and Samuel. They are without their ‘leader’ and welcome our input and advice on THE BOOK OF LIFE, a piece compiled from letters by survivors of the Genocide to those that are gone. A play filled with hope, not despair. They imagine it to be a fully musicalized play. And finally our Tanzanians – Mrisho Mpoto and his crew – who are adapting a very famous letter by a Nigerian activist murdered in prison. 


All the plays share a passion that these emerging artists have for changing their world, a world filled with complexity and challenges we cannot quite imagine. And they are also all filled with an extraordinary commitment that change will happen and it is implicit that artists will lead the charge. But, the plays are also as singular as the cultures from which they emerge. Some are rooted in poetry, some in melody and music; others combine contemporary dance with song, and they are in four languages – English, French, Kinyarwanda and Kiswahili. (How will we do this?!?).

Finally, each group “presents” a 20-minute preview of what they will be working on over the next few weeks, and talks about their individual process. It is breathtaking. For many, they came together and improvised 10 or 15 minutes of brand new material, on the spot. The courage is infectious. They will go the distance, and it feels, already, that “trust” is in the air.

By six o’clock, the light is going (after all, we are on the Equator – no late summer nights) and we sit to download on this first busy and beautiful day. No one turns on a light, but a BAT does fly through the one open door and plummet onto the wood floor. I was very proud NOT to have screamed.

The creative advisors and I go back to my place to talk about the work we’ve seen and to strategize about the best tasks ahead.

On the way to dinner, a flying beetle, the size of a Buick hits me in the head. That DID cause me to scream.

The stars here are amazing – an entire galaxy embraces us – glittering diamonds above Diamond beach Resort (is that how it got its name?) set in a black velvet covering. The Dhows bob in that starlight and tomorrow is a day excursion to the town of Lamu and Shela Beach – a day we can all think deeply about the work ahead and a day to just enjoy this corner of the world.

I am so blessed. . . .

Arrival Day

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG (Producing Artistic Director):

We awoke to Bernard’s wonderfully healthy breakfast and got down to work. We already had our first “crisis”. During the night, we had received an e-mail from Deborah in Nairobi who was preparing to greet all of our visitors and escort them to Lamu. One of our Lab Fellows, Odile Katese, from Rwanda had phoned her during the night to say she suddenly could not come. Pressures at work that put her job at risk had conspired to force her to change her plans. Most of remainder of her team was enroute – her choreographer and two musicians. It was a bit of a blow for us, but as we are trying hard to be as the Lamuans: “Inshallah”, as they say here – it translates from the Arabic to mean: “As It is Meant to Be or As It is Willed”, and so, we went forward. In our first meetings with each Lab project tomorrow, we will assess how the remainder of the Rwandan team can move ahead, and, if need be, we will have our extraordinary U.S. director/creative advisor, Liesl Tommy, to help guide that play. Our disappointment gave way to a slew of creative solutions to this and to knowing that many things will go “off point” in this remote corner of the world. We are ready!

We wrangled with some internet issues: connecting takes much patience, and much time (we may try to solve that in another way in the next couple of days), and we caught up on business. We visited all the houses we are using for our guests, and made sure that all was in order. We also visited Wayne MacGregor’s Dance Studio, which his being gifted to us for three weeks by this remarkable and visionary British choreographer. How do I describe this room and this compound? It is a 60 x 60 foot second story gorgeously simple but stunning Ballet and Dance Studio with a roof of thatch that must go up at least 60 or 70 feet at its height. From the rings of about 30 windows that grace all four sides, you can see the ocean at a dozen angles. What a treat, to have this space as our primary work and meeting place. We met Wayne’s parents who gave us a tour of the Studio and the House (the bathrooms were larger than most New York apartments). Feeling blessed, we came back home and after a light lunch, Roberta and I did a quick dip in the ocean to calm us before the real work begins. (Christopher being Iowan, preferred a glass of white wine to the salt water!)

Walking down the beach over the coral and the white sands, I think: “How did this Lab come to be?” The answer is simple – it began with an idea (“what if we created a Lab on African soil – just to see how that would go?”), and then a chance meeting in Nairobi, with literary artists who regularly visited a place called Lamu, followed by a huge amount of work – by Roberta, Deborah and Christopher to assure that the multitude of logistics were considered on all sides. It also came to be because our experience in East Africa over the last few years, during our visits here, taught us much about what artists said they needed – that rare space of time that all artists yearn for in which to dream and to work collaboratively. They wanted that space between writing a play and producing a play, where the work can go much deeper.

But still, it is a kind of miracle – to have dreamed this dream and now be actually poised to welcome and receive 17 East Africans from five countries.

At Diamond Beach, the entire staff was scurrying around to make sure every detail was in place. Drinks were lined up with delicate wedges of lime, ready to be poured. The blackboard over the bar said, “SUNDANCE KARIBU” (Welcome). It was our own Utah version of the “Owl Bar”. We meet Kombo who works at Diamond Beach who tells us his name has two meanings. One he is “okay” with; one he is not. The first meaning is “something curved” – like a river or a road. We tell him, “Life is like that, no? What a great image for a name!” He likes that we see it that way. The other definition is “Left Overs”. He can’t find anything good in that. Roberta tells him, “well, if you have left overs after a great meal, you have bounty, fullness, which is a good thing.” “You are only here five minutes and I am happy already,” Kombo says, “You have made me like my name.” (OH! And, one of the workers is wearing that odd t-shirt from Miranda July’s film that was at the Festival. That T-shirt that is made of symbols that means something like: “Pooping back and forth!” “Where did you get that shirt?” I ask the man. “In Lamu”, he says. So the Film Festival is well represented here on Manda. It is a small world!)

And, at last just before the sun went lower, came the BOATS! Two big Dhows loaded with our Sundance Lab folk! They tumbled out into the shallow salt water, aided by the Dhow drivers, some women carried over the waves, some jumping into the waves, and we hugged and hugged – those that we knew, those that we have yet to meet. “Karibu to Sundance!” we shouted. I was hugged so tightly by Mrisho Mpoto, our wonderful musician friend from Dar es Salaam. The two musicians from Rwanda who I had met in Butare at the University gave me big bear hugs too. “You are here?” they said, incredulously. “We did not know YOU would be here too! We are so happy!” THEY were happy? It was hard for me to contain my tears of joy. Out from the boat came our dear Liesl Tommy (who shepherded and directed THE GOOD NEGRO at Sundance and in New York, and Deborah’s reading at The Public Theater in NY). She was laughing. “Where have you brought me!? This is another world!” Yes, it is! “Sundance is everywhere!” I said.

I finally get to meet George Seremba, the celebrated Uganda author/playwright, now living in exile in Ireland. He is staying at our house so I walked him down the beach and we talked about Ugandan friends in common, especially Robert Seramaga, the great theatre creator and activist, who is dealing with great hardship in Kampala. What a kind warm and brilliant man George is. I cannot wait to get to know him better.

And now, I sit on my veranda, waiting for nightfall and to walk back to Diamond Beach for our first full dinner together under the stars. This is where we will all introduce ourselves – just as we do at Sundance in the Rehearsal Hall – and where official welcomes and blessings will be made. Everyone is exhausted from their day of travel – some woke at midnight last night to make early AM flights from home. Hopefully, when they all rest up they can even better appreciate this Island Paradise. Our orientation begins after breakfast tomorrow.

Calling all Hippopotamus-Whisperers

FROM PHILIP HIMBERG (Producing Artistic Director):

Calling all Hippopotamus-Whisperers! I kid you not. Two male hippos have mistakenly swum over from the Mainland to Shela Beach across the way, and they are apparently MAD as hell to find themselves in salt water, and quite poised to chomp to bits anyone in their way. There is talk in town of whether to “herd” them back to the mouth of river from which they came (no one knows how to herd a hippo), or to simply kill them – and eat them! We are told “not to worry,” but still, we spend our time near the beach scanning for tiny ears perched above the water. Losing a leg, or more, to a hungry pissed off hippo might get us a write up in Playbill.com – but it doesn’t seem worth the attention.

At breakfast, over eggs, and the ubiquitous and delicious passion fruit juice, fresh mango and papaya, we begin our conversations about the weeks ahead. There are so many questions – most of which will remain unanswered until we share this place with our Fellows and their artistic collaborators. We discuss “Framing the Experience” and how we wish Deborah to begin that conversation, with some of her personal history and her connection to Sundance and her hopes and dreams. I will give a broad overview of the Institute and my own path to our International work and together, Roberta and Christopher, Deborah and myself, will pose questions, listen to questions and try very hard to communicate what a Lab experience can be for artists. We want to impress on our guests that this is a rare opportunity to not simply rehearse their projects, but to do what our American Fellows do – take chances with their work, not to be afraid to go down new and uncharted pathways, and know that this is a safe environment in which to test their boundaries. This may be quite new for this community and it may not be simple to simply ‘say it’. We need to find ways to model it. We are very conscious that there will be concerns and fears, and perhaps even some suspicions, but we are also quite assured that, as we have done before, we can make a ‘home’ for these amazing artists here on Manda. Our conversation goes much longer than expected, and Deborah and I move over to Diamond Beach Village to check out the rooms and to ‘match’ our artists to the spaces – much as we ‘slot’ at the Sundance Resort.

Diamond Beach Village is amazing – an eco-resort that is as charming as you can imagine – 17 separate grass huts, with private baths and showers, but fairly “simple” and straightforward. This is not the Four Seasons. It’s better. Think exotic camping in Paradise with running water and a bar, and you get the idea. The compound is right on the beach, landscaped gorgeously. All of our lunches and dinners will be here, and many gatherings. We cannot fit everyone at Diamond so we have three other houses nearby. On the way back from scoping out the place, I walk the road behind the beach homes, rather than on the beach, for it is high tide, and I pass a friendly cow and a hut that says “Rough Hands” – and is a gathering place to watch local football and now, the World Cup. Deborah departs for the Manda Airstrip to head back to Nairobi where she will rendezvous with all of our artists tomorrow.

Robert, Christopher and I get onto the Dhow (boat) for our trip into Lamutown – which takes about 40 minutes and is about as stunning a vista as you can imagine. The Dhow guys talk to us about life in Lamu, sings songs in Swahili, and French and a bit of Bob Marley too. I make a movie. (Cooper – its coming your way.)

In Lamutown, Christopher goes off to retrieve a piece of luggage we mistakenly had left at the little airport (safely stored for us at Air Kenya’s tiny Lamutown office). It contains the Lab Books because we can’t print them easily here. Roberta and I go off to the little print shop and stationery store (we call it Kinkos: Lamu) to get copies made of our Lab scripts. I cannot truly describe this place amid the narrow paths of this 18^th century town, but scores of Donkeys wander about (there are no cars, only Donkeys and the Donkeys know how to find their way about on their own and their way ‘home’ to the Lamu Donkey Sanctuary which sits on the waterfront). There are people of so many backgrounds, many totally veiled women and then women in tight jeans, and women in colorful scarves, and children in worn out school uniforms, and many beggars, and a lot of handsome young men looking for anyway to bilk a Mzungu (white man) for money. They are fantastic talkers, and hard to escape. The copy machine looks ‘normal’ but has never been asked to print 1500 pages. And as it begins its work, we can see we will be here for hours and hours. SO – we head off to the famous Lamu Fort where we meet Mr. Abdullah, who is Senior Coordinator and Manager for the Lamu Museum and World Heritage Site. Roberta and I had individually contributed some modest funds to the Islamic Poetry Reading Event last year, as a gesture, and he remembers this and he is happy to offer Sundance Institute the Historic Fort as a venue to hold some in-town workshops with young people, and for us to present our ‘performance sharing’ on July 26 and 27. We talk about the town and its impending huge international cruise port (being constructed some thirty kilometers north by the Chinese) and what that means – positively and negatively – for this fragile community. We are honored to be allowed to use this ancient fort for our connection to the people of Lamu in week three and feel quite welcomed and accepted.

Back at the Print Shop there is another hour or so to go, so Christopher, Roberta and I make our way to Jannat House, a wonderful modest hotel and restaurant we had visited a year back. The food is great, but even being the only patrons there, we know it will take at least two hours for the food to be prepared and get to our table. We are far from bored. We meet with Hadija, an American woman who is a convert to Islam. Raising her four children in a Lamu school (Lamu public schools, she tells us, are second to the bottom of the rung in ‘quality’ and she is on the PTA now – very stressful as ‘transparency’ is not yet a value of life here). Then we are joined by the “hooker from A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT”, as she introduces herself to us. From Montana, Margo was an actor and found herself in Tanzania and now Lamu. She writes for the East African and has many a story to tell. Our dinner of Barracuda and Snapper and Calamari and Rice and Chapati is quickly consumed as we trade tales.

The ride back on the Dhow at 10pm, no moon, total pitch blackness, is magical. Gliding through the waves of the Indian Ocean, our boat driver plays a mix of Swahili music, and John Denver Leavin’ on a Jet Plane. “Where the hell are we?” I think. Forty-five minutes later we arrive “home” and I lay my head on my pillow beneath mosquito netting, and drift off.

Tomorrow, all of participants arrive!