These Trees Are Made of Blood had it's third week of development at Shoreditch Town Hall courtesy of the Barbican's 'Oxford Samuel Beckett Trust Theatre Award'. The show is a finalist. A week of 10am to 6pm rehearsals culminated in a 30 minute showing of work to an audience of 40 (including judges from the upper echelons of London theatre and the Barbican) in a basement room at the STH on Friday night. The show itself is set inside a 1970's Buenos Aires Cabaret, called the 'Coup-Coup Club' (thanks for that one Charlotte Worthing!) and is based around a three act idea of a woman's search for her desaparecido daughter (disappeared during the military Junta of the 70's and 80's). It switches from surreal, to strange, to everyday scenes in the space of milliseconds and is an extremely interesting way of looking at an absolutely appalling period in history during which up to 30,000 citizens were disappeared by a regime intent on cleansing its society of those whose morals and values are deemed to be anti-christian. Torture, killing and rape were regularly employed and most of the disappeared never returned. Once again I was fortunate to have the support of Angie Fullman (singer) and Hannah Morgan (violin and trumpet) in the band with me, together with the extremely helpful addition of Harry Melling (actor and percussion) who, after foolishly revealing that he once played the drums, was immediately coerced into doing all sorts of rhythms for us. A frightfully talented group of performers was led confidently into the fray by Director Amy Draper with Lucy Jackson (producer). Once again this R & D was run brilliantly, ripping through the material we had created at a fantastic pace but still managing to try out an enormous number of ideas in a very collaborative way within that structure. There were some new faces, Harry Melling (actor and annexed drummer), Rhyannon Styles (Cabaret artist), Craig Reid (Hula Hoop artist), David Rubin (actor), Guillame Pige (magician) and some old (as in familiar!) faces, Eva Magyar and Charlotte Worthing (actors). The piece is based on an original idea of Amy Draper's and she has been generous enough to include us all in what has been a great collaborative process so far... Following the previous R & D, the talented writer Paul Jenkins had pulled together a script of 18 pages including suggestions for the inclusion of my lyrics and songs within the text. The original songs at the end of the week (including those written during the previous R & D and in between) totalled seven. You can listen to first draft of these songs at my music page and have a read of the lyrics on, oddly enough, my lyrics page! Nunca Mas Vultures My Little Bird La Casa Rosada Daddy The Ghosts of Buenos Aires I'd Do It All Again The show is certainly beginning to find a really interesting form, conceptually and musically and I am very happy with the way it all turned out and the enthusiasm with which the cast and musicians threw themselves into learning so much new material so quickly. As always I was extremely grateful of Hannah Morgan's violin talents (she created almost all of her own violin parts and solos within the songs and music) and Angie Fullman's vocal talents (she created most of her own vocal harmonies for the songs). Also for their musical suggestions and thoughts I am extremely grateful. Hannah also got a bit of her acting out in the show! Working with them and Harry made life much easier in what could have been a very stressful week, but turned out to be hard work, but immense fun. The cabaret genre has given me the opportunity to write some of my most ambitious music, given that the only rule in cabaret is that there aren't any rules. Anything goes. Part of my remit with the songs was to portray the feelings of loss and hope, as well as looking at the workings of practically psychopathic minds, the sense of duty and following orders, the complicity of the people in Argentina. In addition to this it was very important that the songs be used to advance the story and for music to be woven deeply into the fabric of the piece as a whole. As research, I listened to a lot of South American folk music and tango as well as trying to incorporate the crazy world of cabaret... what fun! Lyrically, it was very rich material to draw from, and having recently returned from Ethiopia where a similar regime was in power at a similar time and talking to people who lived through it. In addition to reading the literature associated with the Argentina Dirty War I have been reading the Nuremberg Diary, an account by the prison psychologist who had access to the Nazi War Criminals before and during the trial at Nuremberg for their crimes against humanity during World War 2. It has been awful and fascinating to read firsthand the Reich leaders reactions to these accusations. How convinced some were that they were doing the right thing, others utter shame at being associated with such things, others amnesia, others admitting that the things were wrong yes, but they were following orders and honour was more important. Having read much about the Dirty War and reading speeches made first hand by the leaders of the coup, the similarities are striking. There is even direct reference to the way certain Argentine leaders idolised Hitler and the German Reich. Worth noting too was the strong presence of Anti Semitism in both cases. When talking with my dad about this episode in history, he very rightly pointed out that, yes, these are terrible events but they have been happening throughout history and there is virtually no country or empire that can claim to be not guilty of such awful things. The British East India Company committed terrible atrocities, the Russian Pogroms, The Turkish annihilation of Albanians, the Australian attempt to exterminate the aborigines, American slavery, the abominations that the Catholic Church has created, The Spanish slaughter of the south american civilisations… the list is endless. And such things are still happening now in the middle east, Afganistan and Africa. It is simply incredible what human beings are capable of doing to one another. The competition is for a £30,000 production budget and a run at the world renowned Barbican Centre in central London. So, we have our work cut out for us I think, but a very strong team in place. We will find out whether we have gotten anywhere in this competition this week hopefully… fingers crossed!
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As the title suggests today is my last day in Addis. Amanda refuses to acknowledge the fact. I think we are both living in denial. It has been such a tremendous experience. We are alone today and have breakfast, croissant and banana and mango honey. We have a cup of tea out on the terrace overlooking this paradox of a city. It is a beautiful day, clear blue skies as far as the eye can see. I have heard it said that the sky seems bigger in Africa than anywhere else. Some people say it's because there are less tall buildings, others because of the way the plains stretch downwards. I'm not so sure. I think that maybe the sky seems bigger here because the sky is bigger. We sit in the morning sun, sipping at our hot drinks as Fluffy, the mangy adopted cat, sits on Manda's lap and manages to look almost normal. By the time we set off we are late... We catch the minibus to Piazza one last time and I still find myself fascinated, absolutely transfixed, looking out the window (that is stuck) at the ferocious vivacity of life here. The streets teem with people, donkeys, sheep, cattle, cats, dogs, people shout and honk their horns in a good natured way, the air is rich with the scent of everything you can possibly imagine all mixed together in a giant pot. We get off at Piazza and make the short walk down to the Abinet bus corner where we hop on the second bus of our usual journey. We are old hands now, we know precisely the right change and every now and again someone says 'Good Amharic' when we say 'Warach' (stop the bus!). We get off just past the Abinet round about which is littered with the bodies of the homeless. Sometimes when you pass them in the street you don't even realise they are there. It's just a pile of rags on the floor until you see a foot or a hand poking tentatively out of a corner. We get to the project just before midday. Today, now that the election for the Muslim cabinet is over the feeding project proper will start in the Kindergarten. We all troop off down the cobbled slope to the KG where there are 39 children sponsored by the project, paying for their schooling and food. There are about 150 children at the KG in total and when we arrive me and Amanda are immediately swamped. I have brought my guitar with me and once again I am turned into a climbing apparatus. They are so wonderfully chirpy and happy, I play them every song I can think off and play some games with them all. They are literally hanging off me. Fascinated by my arm hair and this strange instrument that makes sounds, by my glasses (which I nearly lose). I start to get tired and think I might sit down for a bit. I sit down and about 50 kids sit on top of me. I play Hakuna Matata, George Michael's 'Faith', a song I wrote for Manda. They all sing Happy Birthday to me. 50 tiny little smiling faces just inches away from my face, shouting 'Happy Birthday dear Darren'. This has to be the best version of Happy Birthday I've ever experienced. After I exhaust my repertoire, I stand up. 50 kids are lifted off the ground, it's like an earthquake. We start to make our way to the gate and I imagine that this must be what it's like to be in a blender. We are pulled this way and that by these delightful children. Eventually, after having shaken 100 tiny hands and said 'Salamno' a thousand times we make it to the gate. I realise that we had come down to see the feeding project and ask Amanda whether they had had lunch? 'Yes. They had lunch but you couldn't see because they were all sitting on you.' We head back up to the project. After running a few errands in Mexico, we return with Sha to the project to record the older kids singing the song that me and Mahalet have written. It's wonderful to see so many of them there. They are so brilliantly behaved and while a little shy, they are soon singing their hearts out for the video camera. I will really miss all of them and say so at the end of the last session. They say how much they have appreciated my visit. What wonderful kids. As I walk with everybody down the cobble street to the main road for the last time we are accompanied by Kinde and a couple of the kids. Kinde carries my guitar for me. It is rush hour and it's impossible to get a seat in any of the minibuses. A minibus pulls up about 30 metres away, Sha says something to the boys and they run with lightning speed down to the bus and cram themselves on before anyone else can. Sha walks us slowly down to the bus and then when we get there the kids get out and give us the seats they had saved. We are wonderfully grateful. I have a strange feeling as I watch them wave and their smiling faces disappear in the dust of Addis as we pull out onto the road. They have such exuberance. They are the kings of this pot-holed, dusty world and I watch them run off, slapping each other on the back and laughing. It is an image that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I just have one final thing to say now I guess... This project and it's people, Getachw, Kidist, Reta and the boys and most especially Sha and Tesfahun are truly a unique and special venture. From literally nothing they have created a family in the heart of the poverty ridden sub city of Lideta. And when I say family, I mean it in the most wonderful sense of the word. This group, 218 kids, their sponsors and the founders and boys of the charity are brothers and sisters. They care for each other with the utmost devotion. I have felt utterly privileged to have been able to be a part of that family and they have made me feel so wonderfully welcome. I will miss them all enormously as I will miss Amanda (who is staying for another four weeks). I couldn't ask for better people to take care of her out there in the crazy world of Addis Ababa. The project is currently sponsoring 218 kids, but there are more in the area who need help. By 2014 Tes and Sha hope to be sponsoring 350 kids in total. The project is unique in that you have a true relationship with your sponsored child and the opportunity to visit them if you would like to... If you or anyone you know would like to help the project in any way at all you can find out more about the project here: http://www.handinhandethiopia.org/ Thanks so much for reading and do keep popping back to find out more of my adventures in London We meet up with Mahalet, one of the girls sponsored by the project on Monday afternoon. About a week ago I asked if she would write a poem in Amharic about how the project has affected her and her friends lives. On Monday we see her at 2pm and she has gone one better. Not only has she written her poem in English, but she's set it out to the tune of the song that I have been writing for the kids. She hopes to be a poet one day and I have no doubt that she will succeed. She is just one of the many successful stories of the Hand in Hand project. At first I don't realise that she has set it to my music and I come up with something different and play it to her to see what she thinks... 'No. I write like you write.' she says quietly sitting next to me and singing how it should go. I have certainly been put in my place by this extraordinary girl. Together we fix it so I know how it goes. It will change before I'm finished with it, but her words are beautiful and heartfelt and it is clear that this project just means everything to her. That evening, Amanda has to tell me repeatedly not to talk about the next couple of days when I will be going home. I am going to miss her enormously. We have invented a whole new world for ourselves here and I know that I shall return again. Then... it's off to the cultural restaurant. We get in a taxi for the very first time and I suddenly realise that all the taxis are 'Lada's'. For those of you who don't know what a Lada is, please follow the instructions below: 1. Imagine the heaviest, crappest car you can think of. 2. Give it the steering capacity of a tortoise stuck under a huge rock. There you have it. The Lada. There used to be jokes about how awful it was in New Zealand. I always found it odd because despite the jokes I'd never actually seen one. Now I realise why... They sent them all to Ethiopia. Anyway, we arrive at the cultural restaurant with Tes and Sha and we are immediately supplied with small vials of Tej, a local drink. I have been told about Tej. Or rather warned about Tej. It is a potent drink that tastes wonderfully like alcoholic honey. It's almost as if a hive of bees decided to get wasted one night and start a brewery. It's very smooth. Almost too smooth. So smooth in fact that you don't really notice that you're drinking it until you've finished it and your glass has been replenished magically. There are other things in it other than pissed bees. The other ingredients escape me (not literally - at least not yet). We eat Enjera and tibs. The local speciality. It's kind of like a slightly sour dough pancake with various wonderful curries poured all over it. We eat with our hands. It's brilliant. The pancake is a little difficult to get used to but who knows, perhaps next time I will be more used to it. As we are eating, a show is performed. Traditional dances abound, with each dance comes a change of costume for the seemingly tireless dancers. At the end of the evening I can only imagine that the changing room floor would be coloured with slightly sweaty brightly coloured clothes. The dancing is amazing. Lots of bouncing around and sharp jerky movements, the isolation of their bodies is incredible and the way they move looks like they are being given a pleasant kind of electric shock. To my terror one of them comes up to me and everybody at the table makes me try the traditional dance. I think I do quite well. After all, I'm quite good at bouncing around. I am told afterwards that I didn't actually do very well. However, I did far better than Manda who, despite having forced me to get up, refused to get up when it was her turn. She shall never live this down. If you're reading this Manda you know what I'm talking about... The evening ends with some drunken Ferenge's getting up on stage and dancing their hearts out. Bless them. And bless the fact that it wasn't us. Anyway we have a brilliant time and eventually get back to our house lat, having managed to escape without going to a 'Naughty Bar' as Manda calls them. We are full of Tej, having stumbled in the pitch dark up our steep driveway, and we are full of tired. We go to bed to wake up to my last day in Addis Ababa... |
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