King Oedipus moves Kampala

By David Sseppuuya THERE is an argument within literary circles about the appropriateness of foreign literature on the Ugandan scene. One school of thought champions more Ugandan works on the school literature syllabus. Another argues that there is a dearth of quality local writing and that, in any case, literature is literature, irrespective of origin. The home-first advocates argue that local writing needs a boost, and a ready one can be found in the schools. Not competitive enough, reply their detractors. The extreme wing of the pseudo-nationalists fears a colonisation of the (young) mind if local literature does not get a bigger hearing. This thinking conveniently forgets that it is the message, not the origin, which is of import. Would Ugandans want to settle for insularity, that most basic form of under-development? Not on the evidence of the oohs and aahs of last weekend's staging of King Oedipus. Set in an African environment, on an otherwise increasingly inadequate National Theatre stage, the Kampala production of Sophocles' classic brings different cultures together in a creative blend that hallmarks today's global village. The backdrop is a mix of the stereotypical African court, complete with muscle flexing, spear-wielding royal guards, and wiser-than-thou, not-so-regal Greek courtiers. A symbolic fusing of cultures is perhaps most prominent in the form of Frenchman, Gilles Laborde, who plays the lead role of the hapless Theban king, Oedipus, with the effervescent Sandra Kyomugisha as his wife, Jocasta. Her heart-rending pleas to the gods and to her husband, together with the graphic depiction of the bloody scene of Oedipus' dalliance with suicide, wrap up the extreme emotion that is all-too-common in our communities. Would a xenophobic, inward-looking Uganda ever have enjoyed the video revolution of the last 20 years? The use of video clips to enhance an already excellent show was a masterstroke. Laborde uses the considerable talents of his good friend Robert Serumaga to project, overhead, a strong visual and audio image of the messenger of doom, the blind prophet, Teiresius. In a cast of two dozen-odd, the Messenger (Robert Musiitwa), by design or providence, has the greatest audio presence, something that cannot be said of Creon, Oedipus' nemesis and brother-in-law. Philip Luswata comes up a little short on voice projection, even in a setting as limited as the National Theatre; otherwise he is his usual gregarious self, the embodiment of the conflict at the centre of Sophocles' message. It is a global village. A rap act that would be the envy of any American inner city 'hood culture' can throw at us, can be at once a welcome enhancement of the stage's goings-on and a profanity on high culture. As it were, the Rappers do their thing to bridge the scenes, recapping the act with refreshingly audible rap routines. The rap act portrays the contemporary world, so well woven into the classical Greece of 25 centuries ago and the Africa of you and your grandfather. But how does King Oedipus apply to Uganda today? Over 200 Ugandans, many in secondary school and college, submitted essay scripts to Alliance Francaise as part of the French cultural body's collaboration with the National Theatre/the Performing Arts in Uganda's promotion of this timeless work. My judgement lies in the commonality to mankind of personal and communal tragedy, of divinity and the need to order our lives. Played before three full houses, King Oedipus was Laborde's last project. His term as Alliance Francaise director is ending. Many high culture buffs will be hoping that the energy and vision he has shown in Uganda will be kept. ends