In the Frame by Helen Mirren

Author:Helen Mirren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aitia Books
Published: 2007-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

We travelled more or less every day in Africa, but I never tired of the travel. I liked the constant change of climate and location. Beds and chairs became unnecessary.

It was when I got to Ife and Oshogbo that I felt at home. It was also there that I lost my friend. As we crossed the border into his home territory, Ayan Sola got out of the car and did a dance of joy, speaking to himself on the drum. It was wonderful to watch, but it was clear that now Ayan Sola was home he was not going to continue on the journey.

The night in Oshogbo we said goodbye was one of our few celebrations. Some people held a party for us. In the party was someone who spoke Ayan Sola’s language and mine. Ayan Sola was excited. He got hold of the interpreter and sat him down between us to translate our conversation. What then emerged was the most expressive poetic language I have ever heard, full of descriptive passages worthy of Shakespeare or Keats. It was romantic, it was utterly beautiful, mesmerising, and it completely took me by surprise. I was struck dumb. It was so beautiful I didn’t want it to end. It was the last conversation I ever had with him as the next day we moved on and he stayed.

The other magical place for me was by the banks of the massive Niger River as it flows through Mali. There again I felt strangely at home, comfortable with the people and the landscape. Like all very poor people, they showed generosity and hospitality to me. I had taken by then to wandering off on my own, much happier away from the group of travellers, although of course always there for rehearsal and performance.

Our performances continued, usually sanctioned by the local chief. Once we were paid for our performance with a live goat. This set up a passionate battle between the vegetarians amongst us and the rest. It was a question of morality. Here was a village without much to eat themselves who had paid us the huge compliment of giving us something to eat. It was an insult not to eat it. The vegetarians thought we should let it go. Lou Zeldis thought we should paint it bright blue and let it go, so it could become a magical goat. Although not vegetarian, I was of the ‘don’t eat the goat’ group. We had enough food, albeit canned and nasty, and it seemed an unnecessary taking of a little life. In the end the goat got killed and eaten with much serious ritual and ceremony. The whole thing was absurd.

A lot of our trip was absurd and ridiculous, but much was also magical and inspiring. All the time Peter was observing and learning, and later he was to use the experience in creating two remarkable and ground-breaking productions: The Ik and Conference of the Birds.

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