In his search to communicate about the genocide perpetrated against the Tutsi – an event of almost unspeakable horror — Dorcy Rugamba brings to bear artistic tools that remind us about the strength of love, connection, and remembrance.
On a single morning in 1994, most of Dorcy Rugamba’s family was killed in their home in Kigali, Rwanda by militia soldiers. It took less than 45 minutes.
In attempting to live with that devastation over the following three decades, and with the many other blows dealt by the genocide against the Tutsi that took almost a million lives, Rugamba often found himself frozen; unsure what language could possibly help him acknowledge a pain this deep.
In Hewa Rwanda – Letter to the absent Rugamba has woven together a suite of poetry, music, and story telling that not only captures the pain, but also its mirror – the love from which the pain springs.
The show appears to be simple. On stage, Rugamba reads from his memoirs, with his story telling and poetry accompanied by and interspersed with live guitar loops and astounding vocals from Senegalese musician Majnun. But the impression of simplicity is the preserve of finely tuned art.
Rugamba has structured the show strategically. His writing paints a detailed picture of place — we feel the misting rain in the air at the family house located in the neighbourhood of Kimi as if it is landing on our shoulders. He traces the lines of his own life and those of his mother Daphrose and his father Cyprien in such a way that the joyful dynamic in the family home seems to shimmer in the air around Rugamba as he stands on stage.
These warm and moving character portraits of Daphrose and Cyprien, as well as anecdotes that introduce Rugamba’s siblings, serve to humanise those lost — to truly reflect the texture and importance of their lives, rather than focussing solely on their deaths. The content of these portraits, though, is not singular in purpose. They are densely layered, and through them Rugamba draws out ideas that tell elements of Rwanda’s larger story. He explores spirituality, particularly the creep of Christianity into the life of his formerly atheist father. He also highlights his father’s role as an artist carrying on the artistic traditions of Rwanda that have existed and evolved there for millennia. Navigating these two forces, Rugamba conjures the violent insidiousness of colonisation while also celebrating the resilience and strength of Rwanda’s own culture.
The stage craft of Hewa Rwanda is carefully managed to support Rugamba as he builds this complex, sometimes humorous, and highly emotive picture of a family and a country. For much of the piece, Rugamba stands at the microphone and addresses the audience directly, but there are carefully chosen moments when he steps away and turns instead to look at the picture of his family projected behind him. In this action, we are reminded of Rugamba’s generosity in sharing this intimate story of deep love and terrible loss. Musician Majnun is equally restrained on stage — with his soaring vocals and melodic, highly skilful guitar playing holding the space. During the handful of moments that Majnun and Rugamba move and sing together, the work moves into another space — with the blending vocals and synchronised bodies reflecting the deep connections explored in Rugamba’s stories.
In the program for the show, Rugamba writes that he wanted the Hewa Rwanda to be a “hymn to life” rather than a “commemorative text”. That it manages to embrace both the deep darkness of almost unfathomable violence and the glowing warmth of the life and love around it is testament to Rugamba’s enormous skill as an artist.
Hewa Rwanda – Letter to the absent is at Elder Hall until March 6
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