Directing A Play In Prison

Last Monday we staged a play at the Nsawam prisons. All the actors in the play are inmates of the Prison. This was their first time acting. Their first time on stage. This was our first time too; given the circumstances. The first few days were difficult. We auditioned, did casting and started rehearsals.

I wasn’t sure what to do.

I felt I had to be careful, to choose my words correctly, to gain their trust and not offend them. The prison officers were always present to supervise.

Pressure.

After 6 or so trips to the Prison, we had warmed up to one another. I taught them a warmup game; 7up, to help us connect and relax before each rehearsal. But something was missing. The story of the play (written by George Quaye) was an accurate representation of their lives, and yet, in interpreting the roles, the inmates seemed to recite their lines without connecting with the story. The comic parts were great, but the emotional parts were totally lost on them. They couldn’t connect. But why? This is your own story!

At some point, I gave up. I decided to leave them be, after all, they are not pro actors, I could not force them to be what they are not. Five days before the performance, some of the ladies were unwell; a case of the flu in one cell had affected about 5 others, so rehearsal was slow on that day. Ohemaa and ASP Millicent, my assistant directors engaged the ladies on specific scenes. I sat with a few others to talk casually about what brought them to prison. For the first time, I saw real raw emotions, and pain in their eyes. They told me their stories – A moment of indiscretion, being at the wrong place at the wrong time, accepting packages to travel with, trusting friends who let them down, misappropriating employer’s funds. The stories are many. One thing ran through, they were once like you and I; living free They were desperately missing their young children and families.

This is a story for another day.

Listening to them opened my eyes to what hindered a good performance. Defense mechanism. These women were filled with regret and pain. Asking them to relive their most vulnerable real-life moments on stage was asking too much of them. The comic outlook was merely a self-preservation mechanism of sort. They did not want to be vulnerable. They had learnt to be strong. They had to be. Directing them for the last 4 days was different. I was softer, I understood.

I called George and told him; “I feel different”.

He said, “it’s your compassionate side getting the better of you”. On stage last Monday, the ladies let it all go. I saw people crying. I felt it in my stomach. I saw a different side of the ladies. They were strong. Strong enough to let us see them vulnerable. If any of my ladies get to read this; this is me saying thank you. Thank you for letting it all out.

We look forward to having you on stage with us when you come out.

Love, Naa.

Check out pictures of the event from here

#AprilCommunications #ImageBureau #FJI #NaaAshorkor #PrisonTheatre #Theatre