Been asking myself

- and answering questions - this week, about what purpose it serves to make art in a country where 30 million people live below the poverty line. In last night's post-show discussion, I was challenged by several people about using four-letter words in my work. My favourite comment was:

Your work is true and just, but it is not righteous, because of the language you use.

I said the only true obscenities, as far as I'm concerned, are poverty and violence. And when we care more about our children living in a society where poverty and violence are endemic, than we do about them hearing simple, honest words about bodily functions, then we'll be on our way to building the world they deserve to inherit from us.

post-mortem

of the opening night.

1) The Migritude ad that was supposed to run in The Nation, Kenya's largest-circulating daily, all this week, did not appear. The Nation mysteriously dropped it.
First time this has happened in the history of Phoenix Players running the ad with them.

2) A number of writers, journalists, cultural movers and shakers are out of Nairobi this week for the Hay-on-Wye Literary Festival, or the media conference in Arusha.

3) A number of journalists I spoke to the morning after said:

But we already saw Migritude at the Carnivore in 2005.

I had to restrain myself from howling down the phone:

NO!! That was the TRAILER!!! This is the FULLY-REALIZED, COMPLETED, SHOW!!!!

4) Getting to the Professional Centre, where we're staging Migritude, on a weekday evening, is sheer murder in terms of Nairobi's traffic chaos. It was a risk on my part to choose this venue, because of it's history as Nairobi's oldest rep theatre space, rather than somewhere outside the city centre.

opening night

Audience:

My parents
Close friend, his mother, 5 of his friends.
2 of his friend's friends.
Parents of old schoolmate.
Old schoolmate.
Ford Foundation program officer, with a couple of guests.
Guest of honor, his family, two of his friends.

About 80 empty seats.

countdown

3 days before our opening night of Migritude in Nairobi.

I go between butterflies galore and surprising calm and confidence. I've had more rehearsal time for this run than I've ever had for any other show - the bliss of having a real budget and a support team. But there's always more to do, always a whole new set of challenges in restaging the work in a new space.

On Thursday night, the heavens opened on the Migritude reception / soiree, hosted at the home of the Cultural Attache of the US Consulate. The event was in the garden, and after several valiant efforts to keep it going under the canopy, we gave up and shifted it indoors. But despite that - or maybe because of it - the evening glowed with richness, connection, electricity. The rain became a blessing.