A Fool’s Journey
Harare, April 19th 2019 | Sfundo W. Sosibo
The intricacies of writing are such that the fool, who dares to call themselves a writer, must endure the ordeal of pursuing reality in its transcendent state. Such a voyage is precarious and unforgiving. It is complex and demanding. It is meaning uncompromised. It is to be a playwright at the Almasi African Playwrights Conference.
My participation at the conference was due to the faith that invaluable friends may have on a budding artist. I was motivated to apply by a fellow playwright. I applied. Was selected. What followed then was an entire adventure not unlike the one Zelie experiences in Adeyemi’s Children of Blood and Bone. It was taxing yet fruitful. Strenuous yet liberating. Sore yet necessary. This, my first experience in a professional writing environment, is one that has allowed me the relief of a private confession – that I dare call myself a playwright. I had scripted plays before, but within the safe parameters of university – for, I must confess a conditioned audience. At Almasi, there are no hold barred. It is the battlefield of minds. It is where artists must go.
The ten-day process is of beautiful labor. A writing exercise offered by our facilitator, Ms. Alice Tuan was first in order. I marveled at the task’s Absurdist nature that is parallel to my own creative tastes. Synchronicities. This exercise, in conjunction to our second task: a reading of Fuchs’ A Visit to the Small Planet, highlighted for me the delicate nuances of playwriting. Tuan’s mediation provided a space for internal reflections, it was a call to hark at our creative strings. The first and second readings of #BlackGodsMatter were daunting enough. The feedback I got from the ensemble was seriously useful. The play was lifted from the page and made to breathe. It was questioned and interrogated and challenged and grown. There were many blindsides that were brought to light and I was tasked to think and re-think. A director was assigned, a cast was selected. #BlackGodsMatter was now a living organism. We then proceeded to nurture this fragile creature; to prune it, to check it, to command it, to love it. I say we, for the entire team, was part of the process. The actors, the stage-managers, the director.
It is here that I must express my sincerest gratitude to our director Mr. Tafadzwa Bob Mutumbi. His contribution to the play and his companionship to the process has been most valuable. Thank you for being the guardian to my sanity. Another salute goes to the dramaturge Mr. Gideon Wabvuta for the conversation he left me pondering why I bother to approach the page. To the #BlackGodsMatter team I own my deepest bow - the play would not have been, had you not availed yourselves so selflessly. Also, thank you Elizabeth Zaza Muchemwa – your welcoming spirit and encouraging feedback made Almasi feel like a home away from home. And finally, to Patrick Millz Miller – thank you for being a friend.
The reading of #BlackGodsMatter saw our offspring not only move, but march to its destined horizon. I am humbled by its reception. Truly, “the audience is the final character” (Tuan) and how wonderful it is this thing we have done together. Someone recently asked me what is that I do – I responded without hesitation that I am a writer. For this I am grateful to the Almasi African Playwrights Conference - you have taken a chance on a foolish Zulu man, who has been fortunate enough to be allowed to play with words. The Ancestors are pleased. Maita basa. Ngiyabonga.