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.