Death and the King’s Horseman at the Stratford Festival

Death and the King’s Horseman

Amaka Umeh (foreground) as Praise-Singer with Anthony Santiago as Elesin and members of the company in Death and the King’s Horseman. Stratford Festival, 2022. DAVID HOU / STRATFORD FESTIVAL CA.

the ministry of arts / THEATRE dept.

Death and the King’s Horseman at the Stratford Festival

The successes and challenges behind the production of one of Nigeria’s most iconic theatre works on a Western stage.
Death and the King’s Horseman

Amaka Umeh (foreground) as Praise-Singer with Anthony Santiago as Elesin and members of the company in Death and the King’s Horseman. Stratford Festival, 2022. DAVID HOU / STRATFORD FESTIVAL CA.

the ministry of arts / THEATRE dept.

Death and the King’s Horseman at the Stratford Festival

The successes and challenges behind the production of one of Nigeria’s most iconic theatre works on a Western stage.

 

This essay features in our forthcoming print issue, ‘The Enduring Voice of Wole Soyinka’. Pre-order the magazine at our 20 per cent advance discount, here

In the summer of 2022, I visit the City of Stratford twice. To see Death and the King’s Horseman in early September, and before that, to hear Professor Wole Soyinka speak in July. Both events were billed as a part of the Stratford Festival, an annual theatre festival originally set up to showcase plays by William Shakespeare. Founded to revitalize the Ontario town of Stratford’s struggling economy in 1952, by playing on Stratford, Ontario’s name—a nod to Shakespeare’s birthplace—the festival has since gone on to train generations of Canada’s theatre professionals and been featured in the biographies of some of Canada’s greatest actors. A major cultural force in Canada, the festival has an international reputation as North America’s largest classical repertory theatre company. It generates over $140 million and draws almost half a million people to Stratford each year. And in 2022, it was featuring a play by Soyinka, a Nigerian playwright whose outsized influence in African theatre and initials (W.S.) often prompts Shakespearean comparisons, as one of it principal draws.  

I’d seen the ads for the play while riding the subway as Toronto turned from winter to the softer rains of spring. In many ways spring that year felt pregnant with tentative hope. There were intimations that the solitariness the pandemic had forced upon us might be easing with governments perhaps erroneously rushing to declare the agony of that global moment long behind us. There was as well a litany of promises from institutions in response to global Black Lives Matter protests, following the televised murder of George Floyd by the police, whose cheques were beginning to come due. I imagine for many, other than myself, the pictures featuring a largely Black cast in traditional Yoruba attire as prime billing on such an iconic stage, represented something new and tinged with cautious optimism.  

Still, it was in Stratford, and I had no car which meant the journey there would be a hassle. And so, I put it out of my mind, till a friend posted about someone willing to carpool interested Nigerians to Stratford to hear Soyinka speak. I immediately sent off a message and, I was introduced to Isi Bhakhomen, an actor in the production, whose dad was driving up and had space in his car. On the ride to Stratford, I recognized landmarks through Etobicoke till we were past Mississauga, and then less as the car trundled past acres of farmland and towns with Bible verses on billboards and hollowed out industrial sites. We were not the only Nigerians, I noticed on our arrival. Cars disgorged uncles and aunties kitted out in ankara and sandals. A few geles bobbed about. Outside, some passersby paused to stare at the descent of the Nigeria diaspora onto Stratford. I took pictures on my film camera, but in the end, I missed the shot I most wanted. The signature white Afro disappeared quickly into the crowd, and beyond them into the theatre.  

 Onstage, Soyinka was introduced by the production’s dramaturge, Wole Oguntokun, who spoke in glowing terms of his work. The Nigerians in the audience nodded along. We already knew who he was. We’d left bustling metropoles, taken time off work, and travelled to out of the way Stratford to hear him speak. This part was for the Canadians in the room who had not grown up reading his scathing barbs criticizing some new irrationality of the Nigerian administration of the day in the morning newspaper. In a wide ranging conversation with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s Nahlah Ayed, he spoke about growing up ferrying messages for his aunt, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, as a form of political education. He gave his thoughts on Vladimir Putin and commented on the notion of hope. I laughed in places, felt emotional in others, but mostly just sat on the edge of my seat listening raptly. In Stratford, Ontario of all places, I felt for the first time in a while a proximity to Nigeria, a sharp ache of longing. I’d not been home in half a decade. And in the end, it felt over too soon.  

THE context

Stratford’s demographics are very not Black and even less so Nigerian. The 2016 Canadian Census, found 31,053 residents, of which only 335 were Black. None of whom were Nigerian or spoke Yoruba. 24,530 of these residents noted European descent, 18, 445 of whom noted descent from the British Isles. Soyinka’ Death and the King’s Horseman, a play set in 1940s Nigeria, transports us back to the historical moment a Yoruba chief was prevented from committing ritual suicide by British colonial authorities after the death of a king, which was his most sacred duty. The production of Soyinka’s incisive commentary on colonial race relations at the Stratford festival required a majority Black cast and crew to take up residence in Stratford for the summer, at a time in which racial tensions was at the forefront of Canadian discourses. I was curious, then, when I began speaking to the cast about how this context shaped their experiences. How did they navigate living and working in a very white geography, at a time in which many Black people were particularly sensitive to the unspoken codes of racial difference given the still-fresh police killing of an unarmed Black man that had reverberated across North America? 

Bhakhomen, a young Afro-Peruvian/ Nigerian actor, who played Omosalewa in Death and the King’s Horseman, tells me that these race relations were an indelible part of her experience. ‘I remember walking with my friend, Bola and being called the N-word,’ Isi recalls, ‘I know like the director got like monkey noises yelled at him through, like just a random driver in a car.’ For Bhakhomen, who comes from downtown Toronto, Stratford felt uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and difficult to navigate. These experiences came to constitute a ‘tension outside the rehearsal space and inside the rehearsal space, which was really, I think, really hard to navigate for a lot of the actors and the director and the dramaturg; it was just a very intense process.’ In contrast to Bhakhomen, Anthony Santiago, who played Elesin, tells me that growing up in a mainly white small town called Sherwood Park made Stratford feel less daunting and unfamiliar. ‘So even being at Stratford, it felt like I was, I was in Sherwood Park, Alberta’ but here at least, ‘it was the first time that I’d ever been in a room where the majority of the creatives were Black, I’d never experienced that.’ Straddling these two experiences is the director’s own. M’Carthy alludes to some of these external tensions, ‘being in Stratford and having so many black people in Stratford was not easy, because there were external things that were happening that was making the lives of some of the Black people in production a bit challenging.’ 

All three agree that these tensions were not exclusive to Stratford itself. The rehearsal room also brought with it some challenges. Santiago notes that while he was happy to finally be in a room with a majority Black cast, his expectations of a harmonious utopia were dashed. ‘We are not monolithic,’ he mused as we chatted over Zoom, ‘Like any creative endeavour, there’s going to be conflict, there’s going to be, you know, different differences in personality.’ Bhakhomen was more frank. She described multiple layers of strained relations between the white and Black actors, and even the Black actors themselves. This was surprising to me; the production had seemed a well-oiled machine from the view of the audience. When I push on what might have spurred any of these, Bhakhomen, who was raised largely by her Afro-Peruvian mother, notes differential levels of access to cultural awareness of the context in which Soyinka was writing. Specifically, she had experienced some pushback when she noted out loud the complicated power relations of Elesin’s attentions toward her much younger and already betrothed character, Omosalewa. ‘I found myself like not talking anymore,’ she says laughing disbelievingly, ‘because I was afraid to be accused of being too much from the West or something.’ With the pressures of being at Stratford in 2022, against the backdrop of a still ongoing global racial reckoning, Bhakhomen believes it became harder to separate fact from fiction. The actors’ work to become the characters they were portraying and authentically represent the nuances of the context Soyinka was writing from, began to blur into their lives.  

Their work had real stakes. Santiago confessed he was frightened as a non-Nigerian playing the role. While he was not as concerned about how white people or even theatre critics might receive his performance, he told me, ‘My fear came from disappointing and possibly shaming Nigerians.’ I demurred. Nigerians as far as I knew were delighted anytime anyone took up their culture and I’d found his portrayal serious and nuanced. 

For Amaka Umeh, who took up a gender-fluid depiction of the praise singer, these fears seemed to have been assuaged. After his live conversation, Soyinka had tiptoed backstage at the request of the dramaturge, Oguntokun, where he had given an impromptu music lesson to the cast. A moment that Umeh, who left Nigeria as a child, characterizes as affirming. ‘When the professor did arrive, he just gave me props, it was never about like, oh, because you’re in a female body, you shouldn’t be doing this, or you can’t be doing this.’ 

When I asked M’Carthy about the intra-cast cultural tensions and anxieties, he paused, smiling briefly before launching into an explanation. ‘Obviously, there were some cultural frictions, because the play itself, and the Yoruba culture itself comes with a different sense of sensibility,’ he tells me, ‘Yoruba people move through the world with a different energy.’ He related that they were able to work toward a meeting point between all the different Black and African experiences in the room. For him, the cast had been able to establish a bond in the rehearsal room. Once the curtains lifted, it became more difficult to work through the projections and expectations of an engaged audience that has their own expectations. He feels that in the end, they were able to work through those challenges. ‘That was the most challenging part of putting that play on,’ he noted, ‘Reminding the actors to put their egos aside, just reminding the performers, all of them, the white and the Black, and all of them to remember what the action of the play is, and also remembering that it was more than them. Like it was bigger.’ 

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THE CHALLENGES

For a play that was mounted mostly by non-Nigerians in out-of-the-way Stratford, it was quite a get to have Soyinka come to have a conversation in honour of this production. How had Soyinka come to be at Stratford that afternoon? The answer to this and to the production’s cultural richness, came in the form of its now late dramaturge, Oguntokun. Oguntokun, who unexpectedly passed away in March this year, loomed large in the conversations I had while preparing to write this article. The ‘younger Wole’ was a playwright, dramaturge, director, and protegee of Soyinka. He had famously written and directed Who’s Afraid of Wole Soyinka and created the annual ‘Season of Soyinka’, an annual month-long production of plays in hour of Soyinka. The Stratford production could not have had a stronger link to Soyinka’s theatrical tradition, and it was Oguntokun who arranged for the Nobel Laureate to come speak at Stratford’s Meighen Forum.  

Having Soyinka speak was one thing, producing the play remains an even more impressive feat. Racial dynamics at Stratford aside, Canada’s theatre industry lacks the infrastructure to support African plays. That a large, logistically complex, and culturally specific play like Death and the King’s Horseman had been mounted at all is even more striking. Especially given that Soyinka, despite his gargantuan literary status in Africa, is not as familiar to the Canadian theatre whiz.  

Tawiah M’Carthy, the production’s director and an Akan man from Ghana, was shocked to discover this. He had done Soyinka plays in secondary school while growing up in Ghana He credits watching Death and the King’s Horseman at the University of Ghana as the spark that led him to consider a career in theatre. Upon getting into a directorial internship at Canada’s Shaw Festival, where he selected Soyinka’s The Trials of Brother Jero as his directorial debut, he was surprised to discover that very few knew the play, or its playwright. It was at Shaw he met Oguntokun who would later come on board as dramaturge for Death and the King’s Horseman. Confronted with the handwringing of theatre executives who fretted about how audiences might receive African plays, he set about to prove that ‘Soyinka’s writing, particularly his plays, are universal; they are culturally specific, but they are universal.’  

Three years after his introduction to directing, he got the opportunity to direct Death and the King’s Horseman at Stratford. After years of Black Canadian artists attempting to extract promises from Canadian theatre institutions to do better, the wave of public promises post George Floyd created the right timing. ‘I will not take away the fact that COVID shifted something right,’ he noted. ‘I think socially, there was something that happened within the industry itself within the theatre system itself here in Canada, when George Floyd happened, and Black Lives Matter happened, and there was a call for more, you know, stories outside of the Western canon.’ 

Still there was a lot of work to be done. One anecdote from M’Carthy demonstrates this. While preparing for the play’s opening, he’d been given access to the Stratford Festival’s massive warehouse of costumes and props. After more than half a decade of large productions, directors at the festival could reasonably expect to find paraphernalia that could be repurposed for their purposes. Yet walking amongst the many shelves in the cavernous space, M’Carthy could find nothing for his show. Not a scrap of adire, guinea or ankara fabric anywhere. The festival had simply never done a Nigerian play by a Nigerian playwright at that scale before. Sourcing drums was also difficult—they also had to be flown in! 

Aware of the challenges and his own limitations, M’Carthy came to rely on the treasure trove of knowledge that was the now late Oguntokun. Oguntokun also served as dialect coach, and broadly as the production’s north star when it came to blind spots in the cast and crew’s cultural expertise. Oguntokun who had years of experience directing and producing Soyinka’s plays in Nigeria was more than up to the task. This is not to say the actors did not do their own research. They listened to music, read articles, watched Nollywood movies, and did their own research. Yet, while Canadian theatre actors are often trained in Shakespeare and the accent work, culture and history of the Elizabethan era, such training in African theatre does not exist. In many ways, mounting the play also required those involved to build the infrastructure to support their work simultaneously. Without many examples to draw on, they had to figure out what worked and did not work in real time. A challenge that no director working with Shakespeare, Anton Chechov, or George Bernard Shaw’s oeuvres would have to confront.

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THE TRIUMPHS

Death and the King’s Horseman begins with drums. Instantly, the rhythms are familiar as the painstakingly constructed market scene set on the proscenium stage comes to life. Outside the theatre, it is a rainy and damp day in southwest Ontario, but within its walls, a sum total of the music, costumes and set, suggest that we have been transported to Yorubaland, Nigeria’s southwest in the 1940s. Onstage, the cast members dance, hawk wares, hold up swatches of fabric, and precariously balance baskets of fruits on their heads. Offstage, an acapella group croons a cover of Wasiu Ayinde’s fuji ‘Èrè ni ĺjà ńj’ to the drums’ insistent rhythm. While I was not alive in the 1940s, I feel for the next three hours, including intermission, as though I were. As though I have known these characters for a very long time and bought things from them on sunny market days as a quartet of dundun drums compel my hips to sway. This is the power of Wole Soyinka’s layered worldbuilding in Death and the King’s Horseman, an iconic tragedy that continues to hold audiences rapt with its profound investigation of colonial cultural dynamics. A high bar that the 2022 Stratford Festival production, against all odds, is able to both meet and surpass. 

The critics agreed. The Toronto Star called the 2022 production of Death and the King’s Horseman at Stratford, a ‘once-in-a-lifetime theatrical event.’ The Globe and Mail labelled it ‘powerful and profound’ in the headline for its review. Intermission Magazine, a Canadian theatre industry publication, wrote that the production was ‘a deeply impactful, masterfully realized piece of theatre, and it feels right at home at Stratford.’ Given that no Nigerians reside at Stratford, and its residents hurled racial epithets at production crew members, Intermission’s words feel particularly ironic.  

Despite the critics’ effusive praise, the production did not continue beyond its original run. I am curious if it was a commercial failure, but M’Carthy confirmed that the play saw large numbers. While many Canadian cultural staples have shuttered their doors post COVID-19, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation noted that the Stratford Festival remains in good financial shape. When I asked why the production never saw an extended run in Toronto, M’Carthy pointed toward how expensive it was to run. When pressed though, he noted that one could find more expensive plays that are still being run. The true challenge, of course, is that despite Death and the King’s Horseman being an iconic piece of theatre, building the infrastructure for African plays of such scale, grandeur, and cultural specificity in Canada remains daunting. M’Carthy remains hopeful, however. ‘It’ll have a Toronto production, and I still hold on to that belief, you never know, right?’ Having seen the magic of what happens when such odds are surmounted, I want to believe he’s right

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