Pictures from South Africa

Members of the Northern Stage team have been in South Africa taking part in an exciting project. Like last year's South Africa trip, we've kept up with goings on through a series of blog posts. Mark Calvert, Creative Participation Co-ordinator, tells us about what South Africa meant to him:

"So, we're here... we've travelled 10, 193km, 6333.9 miles or 5504 nautical miles (according to infoplease.com!). We've grumbled about our economy seating, we've sprayed expensive aftershaves in Dubai airport, we've wandered zombie-like past 'win a car' stands - the cars to be won being a Lamborghini Gallardo and a Bentley GT Convertable. We've been introduced to South African theatre, by way of Zamuxlo Mgoduka's epic production of Aunt Rose. We've seen 12 productions in a day: a mixture of incredible theatre and song, dancing that made you want to get up and dance yourself and poetry, by Sonwabo Meyi, that made you question why you can't find a 'voice' like that. All of the above, mixed with the journeying around the townships and seeing incredible hardship, bring into sharp focus the history of South Africa and make you question how and why apartheid was allowed to take place.

We've also met 20 South Africa artists that make you take a look at yourself and your skill base, your honesty, courage and what you put down on your CV. 'Can act, can sing, some movement skills' - these artists can act, sing in close harmony after a matter of moments, dance as if they've rehearsed a routine for weeks and approach text with such courage and skill that it makes your head spin. This may all sound like I'm overegging the flan a little but go, be in a room there and you will experience something that is missing from many rehearsal rooms in the UK, a belief that something good will happen.

At this point we've been in The Barn, a studio space in the Port Elizabeth Opera House, getting on for two days. In eight days time, we're having a showing, a work in progress, a sharing. No matter how it's wrapped up, its going to be a show. People are coming and they're going to sit in the dark and watch something... that to me is a show. So what are we going to do? How are we going to do it? How are we going to showcase the talents of these 20 people? How will we show them at their best? Lots of questions, not enough answers.

So we sit down in Angelos, a bar/restaurant on Parliament Street, and take stock of what we've brought with us. Erica and Naomi have brought with them a selection of speeches from Shakespeare to Martin Luther King and a play by Athol Fugard called 'The Coat'. Andy and I have brought ourselves. We feel like we should be at the back of the class. We sit and talk, talk some more and then a little more over a couple of Windhoek's. This becomes the template for the next 10 days: rehearse in The Barn, then after the days rehearsal, retire to Parliament Street to talk and plan until it was time to sleep.

So, every morning we're due at The Barn for 9am. While going to The Barn, it becomes de rigeur to purchase a coffee. (The coffee is something else entirely... coffee, milk, hazelnut sauce, chocolate pieces and cinnamon, topped off with whipped cream plus more chocolate pieces. It's a meal in itself, all for £1.) Then on arrival: warm up, a muscle-wrenching bone breaking journey via contemporary dance, traditional African dance, break-dance and boxercise. The weight should be falling off us but due to the mixture of luxury coffee, and fried chicken, our weight remains, hopefully, in stasis. The fried chicken is another revelation - once you've tasted it, you quickly need another fix. After a few days on this diet of coffee and chicken, we all state piously that we are in need of a meat and caffeine-free day but the lure of chicken leads us to the extraordinary lengths of KFC. Only Andy can find enough willpower to abstain from the constant cravings but finds temptation in scrambled eggs and any variety South Africa can offer.

I digress, after warm-up we start to explore different texts and exercises, and this continues for most of the first week. We try to explore as much as we can in the time we have, we share ideas and techniques, laugh and collectively enjoy watching some high quality stuff. It's turning out to be a brilliant choice by me to attend. Everybody takes part in everything - from readings of Shakespeare to imagining you have a plate for a face! We start to see the shadow of a piece, this could be really good - better than good... brilliant.

Andy then runs a design workshop and Erica, Naomi and I could really just pack our bags and leave. The workshop consists of different staging: thrust, traverse, in-the-round. How to move chairs, how not to move chairs, how to make a set just from chairs - not good if you're cathisophobic. It moves on to using 5 metre lengths of thick elastic, we work in groups and make stars, trees, elephants and roundabouts. There's a question and answer session then Andy is given the keys to the city. It becomes apparent that stage design is an element that the artists really want to know more about but also confirms that you can make a set just from what you have in the room. Very clever. Andy is the man of the hour, until Kev Tweedy, the lighting designer turns up.

On the Thursday of the first week we read through The Coat, a play devised by the Serpent Players in 1966. The piece is about a man who is sent to prison for political crimes. All he has to send back to his wife is his coat. The wife is told to 'use it'. The piece is pure Brecht - improvisation and discussion, improvisation and discussion - and behind it an apparent easy carelessness. It seems at all times completely improvised but is meticulously scripted. We all sit down and listen to 'The Coat'. Wow, its good. Twenty pages of great theatre. There's a discussion afterwards about South Africa, the struggle, peoples experiences of the last forty years. It's an eye opener and a privilege to be in the room. So we end the day on a high and go and celebrate with a Windhoek and some talking and planning until it's time to sleep.

Over the next few days we try and decide how best to use The Coat, which speeches to use and how to use The Barn. We piece together a show, continue to work on speeches and we, we being Erica, Naomi, Kev, Andy and I, are taught to dance, a dance that will eventually become the opening of the show. Erica and Naomi are working on some rather cool South African dance. Andy, Kev and I are placed in the 'men that can't dance' section for a contemporary medley. Bongi, the choreographer for our piece, weighs up her options - there are five men stood in front of her, each a dancer in their own heads. After some thought, she creates an epic piece of dance... about 15 seconds in length. There is some consternation amongst our team about the length of our section but this soon becomes a post-script to the more important matter of how to shimmy. This is where Kev Tweedy comes into his own.

We continue to work, discuss and piece the 'showing' together and in no time at all it's Wednesday night and we're plotting the show. We have a technical rehearsal Thursday and perform the piece to an invited audience Thursday night. There is an electric atmosphere during and after the piece, and we all feel that we've witnessed something incredible. It's been a remarkable two weeks. I feel privileged to have been part of this process, it's been one of the most affirming experiences I have ever had. Sonwabo Meyi says 'words are weak' when trying to sum up this time we've shared. I'm inclined to agree.

We leave on Friday afternoon from Port Elizabeth, have one last South African coffee and start our twenty-three hour journey home. I'm looking forward to going home but, without trying to sound too sentimental, will miss the people I've met and the experiences I've had. It leaves me with a lot to think about. "