My friend greets me in the queue, waving her ticket in the air. She is a novelist, playwright and teacher but more importantly, she is South African. Armed with her local knowledge, we swarm into the venue alongside a huge crowd, rush to well placed seats, and sit down, ready for action. Nothing happens. For quite a while. I point this out to my South African friend who smiles knowingly back at me. “African time”, she says smugly and with evident pride. “Things happen slowly”.
Throbbing, spinning, beautifully balanced and rippling muscular Africa in Edinburgh
Not when the show gets going they don’t. Set in what appears to be a traditional Guinean village, the performance explodes into life with relentless energy and colour. Singing, dancing, whacking big drums, it all happens concurrently to lift us off our seat and hold us gripped for the full hour and a bit more too.
Much of the show rested in the powerful physiques of a group of phenomenal gymnasts, who find a wide variety of ways to demonstrate their athleticism, acrobatic prowess and physicality. There are some quite spectacular aerial spins, together with drum sessions that demonstrate both power and rhythm. One performer literally bends over backwards to entertain us, being the sort of contortionist that makes you squeal, watch through your fingers and wonder why, if he can do that, you pull a hamstring walking upstairs.
The show celebrates a wide aspect of African village life - there is fishing with long poles and nets, for example, and a thriving market of cloths and necklaces. A couple of giraffes wandering across the stage would finish the look beautifully but there are no animals and no mythology on display, perhaps something of a surprise.
At first there are language barriers but the cast increasingly teach us some primitive vocabulary - we learn that naani means four and suli means five in the Susu language of coastal Guinea. Warmth and openness sits naturally with the cast - one performer high-fives a little girl unplanned as he leaves, and their cheeky cheerfulness alternates comfortably with grim-faced determination as they work their way through their spectacular routines.
“Welcome to Africa in Edinburgh”, they beam. “Welcome to Africa in Edinburgh”. They are right. This is throbbing, spinning, beautifully balanced and rippling muscular Africa in Edinburgh. My friend loved it. The crowd, standing in ovation, loved it. And I did too.
