by
May (Mwewe) Sumbwanyambe
The
Lie Of The Land
The
country, a former colony, at first is unnamed. A farmer's family, husband Guy
(Peter Guinness), wife Kathleen (Sandra Duncan) and daughter Chipo (Beatriz Romilly) all born in Africa, alone on their farm in
the bush.
Any night time rustle may signal imminent danger, not from nature but
from maurauding gangs of former soldiers.
And the name of the farm? Independence.
Part
family saga, part fable, we learn eventually this is modern Zimbabwe with a civil
servant (Stefan Adegbole) making the
trek to the farm with an offer to buy. An offer, so far, refused.
We
never learn the ins and outs of funding and earning from the farm in a post
colonial state. But this gives the play an archetypal feel and greater reach, stretching
beyond Zimbabwe with implications of post colonialism for economies, property and
families further afield..
This
is the debut produced full-length play from May Sumbwanyambe. It sometimes feels like an apprentice work, as put together as a
film script rather than theatre. but it has a pleasing clarity and intellectual
rigor which keeps the attention.
At
the same time, there is a
tendency to over-explain and some clunky symbolism loaded mostly upon the mother Kathleen.
Yet
focussing as much on young Africans, black and white, as the legacy left by
older generations, it is directed with clever stylistic precision by George
Turvey.
The lingering poses of the actors convey the vast vistas, entrenched self-dramatizing
positions, alongside centuries of resentments . The enclosed wooden crate design by Max Dorey
lit by Christopher Nairne also allows a feel of the ample raw resources, punishing labour and the open spaces beyond the wooden
slats.
So
it's a curious mixture of the over emphatic and the skilfully placed
justaposition. The struggle for rights may be, as forcefully put, about the struggle
for land.
But there is also a recognition there are some legacies of
colonialism that are not just a matter of simple ownership reversal. A hint of the new tribe, having
emerged from European exploitation, in the double edged comment of the daughter
Chipo to bureacrat Charles:
"My
family line may not go back in this country as far as yours, but we are all
seedlings from the same tree, Charles. Only some are dark and some are
light."
The
myths of two separate peoples, in reality yoked together, clash in this intriguing if flawed work. Meanwhile the current predatory global search for property, whether for individual or collective enrichment,
make the disquiet over government, employment,
business, contracts and disenfranchisement hit close to home. An amber/green
light.
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