THE HADITHI GROUP

Storytelling & Perfomance

By Standing Voice

August 16^th, 2018

For three years, Standing Voice has supported a talented collective of advocates and performers from across Tanzania in their mission to demystify albinism through interactive theatre. In a captivating display of creativity and courage, the Hadithi Storytelling and Performance Group harnesses the power of song, dance and participatory drama to dispel popular myths and spark community dialogue around albinism.

Reconvening this year at the Summer Skills Workshop, the group were led by four facilitators: Josephat Torner (star of In the Shadow of the Sun and renowned campaigner for the rights of people with albinism), Sixmond Mdeka (activist and internationally acclaimed reggae artist), John Sagatti (drama and music instructor at the Bagamoyo Creative Arts Institute (TaSUBa)) and William Mseti (TaSUBa student). This incredible line-up of African talent led the storytelling group to new heights, converting their stories and lived experiences into an interactive drama later performed live in open-air village settings.

Before taking their performances into villages, the storytelling group prepared at the Umoja Training Centre. Excited voices echoed through the hall as people with and without albinism shared stories, practised their skills, and connected through the joy of performance. In addition to perfecting their public performance, this preparation time gave members of the group a safe space to tell their stories of living with albinism. Often traumatic and hardly talked about, memories like these may have been repressed for years. Sharing them intimately opened vulnerabilities and, in many cases, began a long-overdue healing process.

“We are here to uplift one another and to develop our talents, to break the silence enshrouding people with albinism in this country by speaking back to the world. We are proving to ourselves and each other that we can do whatever we put our mind to in this fight to build an inclusive society.” Josephat Torner

“Singing has always been a way for me to tell the world what I am going through. Now I am a professional musician, I want to represent other people who are on the outside, who want to say something but never get the chance to. I want to be a voice for the voiceless.” Sixmond Mdeka

The participants developed a core narrative around a farmer with albinism, struggling to make a living due to discriminatory destruction of his crops. Rejected by his family and community, the farmer is forced to hire a lawyer. The other characters—and much of the audience—express disbelief as the lawyer is revealed to be a person with albinism, prompting doubts of his authenticity. How is it possible for a person with albinism to be successful in this way? Passersby were immersed as contributors to these unfolding dramatic scenes, and their unfiltered reactions–-empathy, indifference, rage, shock—were absorbed and integrated, sometimes redirecting the story. What resulted was by turns encouraging and distressing; some shouted their support for the protagonist and his lawyer, others yelled abuse. Over time, this narrative was widened to explore issues of marital abandonment, and the unique challenges facing women with albinism and mothers of babies with albinism.

“Going out into the heart of communities and using theatre to challenge preconceptions around albinism, the workshop was an incredibly innovative way of bridging community divides and demonstrating the shared humanity of people with and without albinism." Jess Meyer

"The group would begin by singing songs or performing scenes before a small crowd, which would grow and grow. I understood very little of the dialogue, snatching bits of sentences from a translator; but I could see, from facial expressions and body language, how intently the crowds were listening, how a collective conversation was being brokered. I discovered through translation that one girl with albinism had stood up and confronted her detractors, saying she had been bullied and called names her entire life. An older man, watching, became a picture of remorse: “you’ve been called these names all your life. Now I understand who you are, please tell me your actual name. What should I call you if not these things?” I could see how these performances were a release valve for community ignorance—getting everything out in the open, airing problems and prejudices—and an entry point for empathy.” Jess Meyer