THEATRE REVIEW: SANKOFA TRILOGY
7 NOV/11

JOHN COULBOURN,
QMI Agency
R: 4/5
Pictured: d'bi.young anitafrika


“Tell me a story.”


They are four tiny words that, once spoken, throw wide the doors of the imagination and uncover portals that stretch into the worlds of literature, music, the visual arts and, of course, theatre. But while every piece of theatre tells us a story, not every theatre artist is a storyteller — nor is every storyteller a theatre artist. But in d’bi.young anitafrika, it seems, those elements meet and mesh.


On the theatre front, Toronto has been fortunate to see her skills in works like Da Kink in My Hair and Three Penny Opera. And while there has also been plenty of local opportunity to tune in to her abilities as a storyteller, it’s hard to imagine things getting any better in that department than the current run of her Sankofa Trilogy in the Tarragon Extra Space.


The  three works that it comprises — blood.claat, benu and word!sound!powah! — tell the tale of three generations of Jamaican women and they are playing in rep through Dec. 4. The run was launched Friday with a performance of word!sound!powah! — the final and most recent chapter in the saga of the Sankofa women.


Through the eyes of Benu Sankofa, — granddaughter of Mugdu and daughter of Sekesu, the driving characters in blood.claat and benu respectively — this chapter tells the story of an aspiring young poet who gets caught up in the politics and polemic of Jamaica’s 1980 election and consequently finds herself accused of involvement in a political assassination. Those are merely the bare bones of the story — and what makes this story so compelling is the flesh that anitafrika puts on those bones, along with the spirituality she weaves into them, deftly creating characters and casting them aside as she builds a community.


For brief intervals she brings life to an almost dizzying array of characters, including a rather blissed-out disciple of Rastafari movement, a corrupt cop and a whole slew of early dub poets, made memorable by their delightful idiosyncrasies. Their leader and the most politically active styles himself the Robin Hood of Poets, while the emotionally bruised Peaches channels the rage and the love of a single mother and the aptly named Stammer gets around his impediment by making what he calls physical poetry.


As good storytellers do, anitafrika relies largely on voice and gesture to define character, only occasionally incorporating more physical elements — props, costumes and the like — into her tale. Set under a stylized tree created by designer Camellia Koo and lit by Michelle Ramsay, it is a story completely capable of standing on its own, even while it references the earlier works in the trilogy. And while a knowledge of Jamaica’s history and politics will enhance her stories, it is far from mandatory. anitafrika incorporates much of Jamaica’s colonial history as well as the history of the renegade Maroons into her tale, adding a heavy dose of a spirituality rooted in the African continent while still balancing linguistic authenticity with the knowledge that the Jamaican patois can sit heavy on unfamiliar ears.


It’s a complex balancing act, underscored not only by her in-your-face physicality but by the power of her voice and by her compelling rhythms (backed here by a three-piece musical ensemble under the direction of Waleed Abdulhamid). All of which means that if you’re in the mood to open a few doors in your imagination and let in some fresh air and sunshine, the best thing you could probably do is ask anitafrika to tell you a story.