Burkina Faso Theatre

Last weekend, I accompanied Gigi to an afternoon rehearsal. It was a dress rehearsal for an independent theatre performance. He was approached to coordinate the music after the director heard his didgeridoo playing. He agreed to source the musicians and oversee the direction of the music.

A group of Neapolitan girls, including the director, recently travelled to Burkina Faso and came back wanting to translate that experience into a theatrical piece. Burkina Faso is one of a number of countries in the west northern part of Africa oozing men and women into southern Europe. They come looking for employment and opportunities, often sending money home to support families left behind.

It struck me as odd that these girls had ventured to a place I’d never even heard of before. I am embarrassed to admit that I had to look Burkina Faso on a map. While researching this African nation I discovered the stark differences between it and Australia.

Burkina Faso is one of the world’s poorest nations. It is poor in all sorts of ways.

Basic Facts
Life expectancy: In Burkina Faso = 44.2 years Australia = 80.3 years
Population Density Rate: In BK there are: 50 persons/sq m Australia only: 2.6 persons/sq m
Infant Mortality Rate: BK has 99 deaths/1000 live births Australia only 5 deaths
Literacy Rate: BK = 27.6 % Australia = 100%
Urbanization: BK urbanization is ironically = 83% rural Australia instead = 8% rural
GPD per capita: BK = USD 260 Australia = USD 20,820
Just think about that a moment.

Sunday afternoon, and the ensemble were gathered in a run down building, in a suburb that reminds me of New Farm and Fortitude Valley (in Brisbane for those of you that are strangers to the city). At some time, this pocket has been beautified. There is a mini soccer field, garden beds, and a row of olive trees along the brick steps leading up to the building that appears to be used as a theatre and community centre.

As we approached the door, we were hassled by a gaggle of teenage boys strutting their stuff, rolling a joint and marking their territory. To further emphasis the tingle of warning that ran up my spine Gi had to bang on the door before someone came down to unlock the front entrance.

Up on the third floor were the actors, in long flowing black dressers, a couple of technical people and the other musicians, two guys from Burkina Faso. Solu and Ahmed are half brothers, and friends of Gigi’s through their involvement with other local band initiatives. They are both accomplished drummers and sing. They always greet me with enthusiasm and broad smiles. This afternoon was no different, our cheeks meeting as I kissed the air and inhaled the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat. Solu is the extrovert of the two, and I his scratchy stubbly cheeks are a contrast to the smooth face of Ahmed. They both speak French with strong accents, as it is the official language of Burkina Faso, although interestingly it is not the mother language. Their Italian is somewhat limited (as is mine). Luckily, our conversations are never about anything life threatening, as I’m convinced they are loaded with misunderstandings. Gigi largely communicates with them in French, translating crucial points into Italian for others involved in the production.

It was a stinking hot day, and the blackness of the theatre, velvet covered seats and energetic performances left me drained. I watched the group run through the play four times. As the late afternoon humidity settled in, energy levels flagged, concentration levels lapsed and motivation leaked away.

Last Thursday they gave their first performance, as part of an application for government art funding to launch a season of events after the summer. It is now a wait with fingers crossed to see if the initiative will develop further. In an attempt to distract myself from the blanket of heat and spirals of cigarette smoke that filled the theatre whenever a break was called that afternoon, I tried to capture some of the atmosphere on film.