Just in case you’re nervous: Salaam Stories is no religious tract; it’s a carefully constructed cultural entertainment.
I recall seeing the original staging of Ashraf Johaardien’s play at Spier in 2002, after it had won the first PANSA Playwriting competition. Directed by Neville Engelbrecht, it boasted a cast of six, including the author and his mother, Sufeyah, who appeared – if I recall correctly – as herself. I was enchanted by it.
Since then Johaardien has reworked his piece into a solo piece (economics playing a part, I’m sure), and inevitably it takes on a different quality. He plays himself as a child, his gay uncle Zane – who drives a metallic gold Ford Escort – two farting lovers, and a host of other characters from his Cape Muslim world. As critic Wilhelm Snyman has pointed out, his play is “thoroughly rooted in a Muslim awareness, in a Muslim way of looking at the world, with a Muslim sensibility.” If this sounds all terribly solemn, it isn’t. Although Johaardien is serious about Muslim issues, there are lots of laughs, most of them gentle, but some treading into the territory of Kaapse vaudeville. Jokes about snoek, a parrot and his closing gag all get belly-laughs.
The decision by a Muslim woman to wear her burqa every day, not just Friday, is a key moment in her life. She also wonders whether the scarf makes her stand out or makes her invisible. The playwright doesn’t supply answers. The issue of 9/11 is briefly raised. In 2002, I can recall Chad Abrahams as young Ashraf playing with a toy plane and blocks, which, in a scary echo of 9/11, toppled. Chilling. Some of the humour in both versions comes from observing the action through the eyes of a child.
The piece begins with Johaardien rising out of the audience and in low light picking his way through his people’s slave history. The set is a series of boxes and suitcases and even a magic carpet. He tells with relish how Scheherazade’s stories saved her from decapitation post-deflowering. It’s a muted production – not untheatrical, but not striving for effects. The death of his father, an event he missed out on, reduces him to tears of guilt and rage.
The play is as charming as it was twelve years ago, but, despite the Prof Temple Hauptfleisch quote in the programme, Johaardien is not a virtuoso. His trump card is his gentle charm, which director Jade Bowers uses to great effect. She also lets the actor take his time, deliberately allowing us to ponder on what is to come. She has also made a virtue of the technical limitations of the venue, keeping things simple, with occasional sound cues. Talking of which, the sound from the adjacent venue (St. Andrew’s Studio One) bled annoyingly through to Studio Two. Something to be addressed.
Enjoy! Peace! Vrede! Salaam!
– By Nigel Vermaas, Cue
