Hope not happiness in a Somali life-journey
A Man Of Good Hope
Image by Young Vic
A Man Of Good Hope is a musical, but not a musical as you know it.
How many musicals start with the hero’s mother being shot dead? Or the woman who takes him under her wing being wounded, so he has to wipe her clean after defecation and during menstruation? In how many musicals is courtship about money? How many confront the pain of sex experienced by a circumcised woman? How many mock the African use of the phrase “My brother”, turning it from an expression of solidarity to a threat?
And in these days of hysteria against a few hundred child migrants, how many musicals are built around the experience of a refugee and a migrant, let alone - without blame - blurring the distinction between the two?
Yet “hope” is part of the title for a reason, even though the life story of Abdullahi Asad starts amidst the mayhem of Somalia’s civil war and sometimes seems to stumble from anguish to heartbreak as he is propelled to Kenya, Ethiopia, Tanzania, Zambia, Zimbabwe, the false promise of South Africa and on to the US (“It’s always safe in America”, Asad is told, a brainworming echo of the West Side Story refrain, “Ev’rything free in America” and the less remembered following line, “For a small fee in America!”)
And it’s not only a matter of hope springing eternal in Asad’s story: the music and movement are joyous. You know you’re in for a treat from the moment the barefoot conductor and singing orchestra members on the left and right of the stage switch sides and instruments. (”Marimbas, not to be confused with xylophones,” the programme tells us sternly.)
But there are too many deaths and too much disappointment for Asad’s story to be about happiness. Jonny Steinberg, author of the book on which the production is based, recalls that when Asad was given the book he stopped at page 25 and said he would read no more – it was too sad: “Deep in our culture is the belief that unearthing memory is therapeutic. I think that Asad has taught me otherwise. He gave me the material to assemble a story about his personal history. But the story is not for him; it is for the edification of others.”
And edifying it is, not least for the toughness of its view of South Africa’s recent anti-migrant riots, pointedly contrasting Nelson Mandela’s declaration (“I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die”) with the violence of the men and women who turned on foreign workers.) This is a timely reminder in these British days of anti-migrant hysteria and media outrage over the arrival of a few hundred child refugees.
The piece is by no means perfect. There’s a lot of exposition, especially at the beginning; some stiff, declamatory acting (though once again Pauline Malefane’s natural stage presence shines through); and because the story covers a linear, 4,750 kilometre journey it occasionally becomes a list rather than an adventure.
But the journey is worth it: there’s much to enjoy, admire and learn along the way.
* A Man Of Good Hope is at the Young Vic, 66 The Cut, SE1 until 12 November. Info: 7922 2922/ http://www.youngvic.org/home
+ 26 October, post-show Q&A with writer and cast
blog comments powered by Disqus
