From 30 March to 12 April, I was cooped up in a mansion with four bathrooms on the first floor, assured of three square meals a day prepared by a chef who wore a weird bonnet that I might have complimented not only out of fear of getting poisoned, but to bring cheer to someone who made great meals with mechanical punctuality not just for me, but for the four other writers who had been selected for the first playwrights’ residency in Zimbabwe.
I was there only because one of my mottos is never to say no to things that appear good; that is how I ended up writing for this magazine, and how I ended up at a writers’ retreat hosted by Almasi Collaborative Arts. I was a week away from staging George Orwell’s Animal farm, an adaptation I was codirecting with the revered Gift Chakuvinga for the Centre for Talent Development, when I got the invite. I chose to say yes and to rush the actors and Busani Ncube, our art director; then I confided in Gift that I would be doing all that rushing, and leaving the burden of polishing the performance with him alone. We had a long drink, figuring out how best to use the time we had left, and it went well; he’s a better theatre director than I have been and might be for a long time. Released of my obligation and (I like to think) having freed a master to work his mastery, I went on to become a part of history.
Almasi is a Swahili word that means “a precious thing”. In a time when writers seem to have been forgotten, this organisation that focuses on building African playwrights seems to be returning to the basics, and we are here for it. There are not too many platforms available for African playwrights within the continent, and what Almasi has done is to remember the theatre’s primary artist, the writer, and actively invested in them. Over the years, they have put out an open call for plays that need development and have provided dramaturges, directors and casts for stage readings to help develop the plays further. For some, this was a gruelling journey; writers are quite guarded with their creations, and when editors use phrases like “kill your darlings” in the refinement process, it hits quite literally – never mind the amount of input that comes from the actors, the dramaturge, the director and others. The process can all be overwhelming, unless you’re hard-headed enough to see these utterances for what they are – suggestions – and also open enough to realise that whatever is being said comes from a well-meaning place.
This brings me to my favourite part about Almasi’s approach to the plays developed in their processes: playwrights keep the copyright; all they require is acknowledgement in perpetuity – a small price, I think – for the resources they invest in each conference and workshop they facilitate. I, for one, as a former chief editor and an author whose every book has received awards – local, national and international – understand the need for an ecosystem to develop texts, test them out and refine them, an opportunity Almasi provides not only for Zimbabwean artists but for writers from all over the continent, such as the South African writer Sfundo W Sosiba, a fellow 2021 Almasi alumnus.
The writers during the retreat: Kingsley Chinhanu, Amanda Ranganawa, Tatenda Mutyambizi and Philani A. Nyoni (Photo courtesy of Almasi Collaborative Arts/Jon Pilch)
I do not know what the future holds, but the closest I have come to an opportunity like this is participating in the 2014 Caine Prize for African Writing workshop. It was also held over two weeks and brought out the finest prose writers in us; Abdul Adan’s workshop creation went on to be shortlisted for the Prize. Then came the recommendation of two-time Booker Award nominee Noviolet Bulawayo, an opportunity I remain eternally grateful for; this time around, it was with an organisation founded by Danai Gurira (also known as that bald-headed demon in Marvel Comics circles). She currently serves as the organisation’s executive artistic director. One can’t help but be grateful for how these daughters of the soil have remembered home, having found their footing in foreign ground, and how they have sowed back to germinate new growth, creating opportunity for writers of African origin. I believe we have stories to tell, but sometimes we lack the expertise in the little things, as well as opportunity.
In my meditations during the writing process, I could not help but wonder what opportunities await us, if we do it right, with the vision Almasi seems to have. We were lucky to have creatives like Elizabeth Muchemwa and Gideon Jeff Wabvuta as part of the administrative team at Almasi; they are also playwrights and have an idea of what a creative needs to advance their career. We – that is, Amanda Rangawana and Kingsley Chinhanu (both from Mutare), Rudo Mutangadura and Tatenda Mutyambizi (both from Harare), Philani A Nyoni (the most handsome penslinger from Bulawayo) and I – were also excited by the partnership with the Public Theatre in New York (the space that gave us and the entire world Hamilton). It was a pleasant reminder that there is an entire world out there that believes in African stories enough to give us two weeks to hammer out our plots and characters, vivify our paper worlds and bring them fully to life. Maybe one of us have created a new Mufasa; maybe one of us is the new Athol Fugard. I doubt both very much, since genius is rare (that’s why it is “genius”), but I believe in chances, and programmes like this only increase the odds.