By Tanya Batson, Staff Reporter
Sarafina depicts the struggle of students in the anti-apartheid movement. - File
APARTHEID WAS an all pervasive issue in the 1980s. This was in part because it was one of the favourite topics for local deejays. However, now it is over and for the rest of the world, almost forgotten. The Jamaica Musical Theatre Company (JMTC) brought it back into the limelight this year with their production of Sarafina. The play was brought back last weekend to satisfy the demands of those who had missed its run over the summer.
In a word, Sarafina is excellent, or you could describe it as a well-crafted moving piece, which combines great storyline, wonderful acting, directing and choreography, but that would be far more than one word. So excellent will simply have to suffice.
Since it deals with the anti-apartheid struggle, Sarafina includes many sad moments that can easily open the waterworks. Even so, even when the lighting is dim to set the mood, and the entire mood darkens as turmoil blooms, the piece remains vibrant. The set was simple but effective and was designed by Robin Baston, who is also the technical director. The most obvious element was the chainlink fence which had an ominous presence throughout the production.
Additionally, the play presents a different spin, at least for us in the west, to the apartheid story. The stories we usually hear about apartheid usually have a male focus. The names that were heard and given a face were names such as Nelson Mandela, Steve Biko and P. W. Botha. With the exception of Winnie Mandela, women in apartheid were nameless, faceless persons who were either raped or awaited the return of their husbands, brothers and fathers who were the ones actually engaged in the struggle. Sarafina shows that both sexes were involved in the struggle, a necessary aspect for it to work.
Sarafina tells the story of a young girl and her schoolmates in Soweto, South Africa who get involved in anti-apartheid struggle. The major characters are Sarafina and her teacher, 'Miss It's a Pity'. Of course, this is not a project to sideline the males and they are not.
Another issue which the story brings into focus is the value of education to any struggle where the space and the mind are being colonised. With each energetic shake of her bottom and high karate kick, it is obvious that Miss It's A Pity is playing a very valuable role by teaching the students their own history. This makes it easier for Jamaicans to identify with the story. It is easy for us to understand how your own tongue is devalued and you are taught every history but your own. Some Jamaicans will also be able to identify with going to a school where there are armed soldiers at the gate. The reason may be different, but the image is familiar.
The play would not have had such a powerful impact, however, without such wonderful performances. Sarafina is the kind of production where every single line counts. There were no small roles in the production. All the actors seemed to recognise this and played their roles to the hilt. This included catching the South African accent. This was particularly impressive in the case of Patria-Kaye Aarons, who plays 'Sarafina'. She portrayed the accent with such authenticity that at some points, you had to work to understand what she said.
Aarons' entire performance was great. She easily engaged the audience with her expressive face and voice. Additionally, the fact that even her long monologues did not become monotonous or preachy spoke of excellent direction on the part of Alwin Bully.
Teesha Duncan also did a great job. Her character, Miss It's A Pity, is one of those who live with you long after all the other images begin to fade. Duncan played the role with great zest, capturing the audience's attention every time she was on the stage. Almost every word she said was punctuated by a full-bodied shake, or a high kick. Even so, Miss It's A Pity did not come across as a frivolous character who was a sell-out to farce. Her antics made you laugh, but the point was well made.
Humour was used in this way several times in the play. For example, near to the end of the production, one of the soldiers rattled off a rule, inclusive of every comma, semi-colon and full stop. The way his head punctuated the sentences with a decisive jerk and how he bellowed the words almost meaninglessly, were hilarious. However, it could not go unnoticed that he cared more for full stops and commas than he did for the persons he had incarcerated.
Max Woodham and Richard Beadle, who played supporting roles, should also give themselves hearty pats on the back. The production is rounded off by great music courtesy of Peter Ashbourne, the musical director and lighting by Franklyn 'Chappie' St. Juste, making it a treat for the eyes and ears. Those who missed it, whether or not they are avid theatregoers, should feel free to kick themselves.
