Sarafina, South African playwright Mbogeni Ngema’s contribution to liberation art, was conceived in the late 1970s as a desperate response to apartheid.
Apartheid was segregation of the South African populace by race. This political doctrine had been put in place in the 1920s by the ruling Afrikaner regime (descendants of Dutch settlers who first arrived in the 17th century) to control, manipulate and exploit the majority populace. By 1955 Apartheid had taken an extreme right turn, led by the new National Party Government, and now consisted of pass laws that further restricted not just political, but also cultural, social and economic interactions between people, based solely on race.
In 1972 young black South Africans living in the ghetto of Soweto, outside of the city of Johannesburg, were polled and said that they did not want to be taught in Afrikaans, the language of the Dutch-descended ruling class. By 1974 this rejection of Afrikaans had become a major protest movement. In June 1976 the rejection boiled over into a violent confrontation culminating in the Soweto riots, a series of violent clashes between black youths and the South African political and police authorities.
This is where the play begins.
Sarafina is a young, striking student with leadership ability and charisma. She and her companions unfold the era through song, dance and dramatic mime. Ngema’s narration, using the voice of Sarafina and several other youths, is complex and fluid. It lets the world of Apartheid change before our eyes by using the spontaneity of song, dance, and children’s natural sensitivity and quickened humanity, without letting us turn away from hard truths and the tragedy.
The young people of Soweto are portrayed as deadly serious. The young artists in the Black Rep production, under the direction of Ron Himes, do them more than justice. The hymns to mothers, fallen comrades, even a stunning version of the Lord’s prayer, do not have to carry the burden of sophistication or irony, because the sentiment is crushingly real.
Sharisa Whatley as Sarafina is a godsend. The moment she arrives stage center she lands in your lap. Viewing her character is like watching a small tornado from a safe distance. You know something is going to change. Her telling the tale of a brilliant black female lawyer, who uses the law to achieve justice after a brutal rape, was for me the highlight of the evening.
Candice Jeanine Jackson as the school mistress gave depth and direction to the interplay of the children, set as they are against her authority and contrasting appearance.
John Reed as Colgate, the first narrator, shines as the schoolboy leader of the pack, whose smile is the core of ambition and young triumph. His presence constantly tells us through voice and movement that these really are kids of the golden time.
Rob Demery as Silence is powerful and assertive. His athleticism, like most of the ensemble, was remarkable.
The mostly menacing silence of Hal Bates’ violent police officer is pretty scary. When he does speak, reciting the text and subtext of a repressive law against congregating, speaking and finally even thinking, he gives us a two-minute treatise on the absurdity of the modern police state. The ensemble piece that features him driving the kids to a police holding area, after his and other officers’ violent attack against them, is another highlight.
The elfin Tyler White as Teaspoon, the young carrier of tales that are rumor and truth at the same time, nearly steals the show. Her physical subtlety and lithe dancing cause your eye to stay fixed on her for the entire evening.
The live band, under the direction of Charles Creath, set above the singers and dancers and dressed in police uniforms, is another interesting dynamic. Their menacing presence, set against the beautiful lilting South African cadences of the music, create another pool of tension that can only be called sensual.
Keith Tyrone’s choreography must be heralded as the real ground of the show. In South Africa, dancing is not a pasttime. It’s a statement of the core value of the culture. That value is expression. When Nelson Mandela was released from prison in 1990, he walked into a huge arena to address his people. He told them not to seek revenge, but to forgive their oppressors and reconcile with their enemies. He stepped back from the microphone and he danced.
Sarafina continues through June 29 at the Grandel Theatre. Call 534-3810 or visit www.theblackrep.org.
