I had always intended for the play to start with a lone figure entering from the back, singing a lullaby, as a way of capturing the audience’s attention, but as yet we had not had the opportunity to select a singer, song, etc. So a suitable candidate was plucked from the chorus and the song was chosen for her. Ndiivhuwo immediately took her place and walked forward, singing beautifully, alone and unaccompanied, in front of the entire assembled company; I would never have found someone with that level of confidence in England.
But then we needed to open with a bang, and we arranged for that song to be interrupted by the entire cast bursting in from all four corners of the theatre in a wildly cacophonous explosion of noise and energy. Luckily (pun fully intended) Lucky was available to co-ordinate, orchestrate, and choreograph the whole business. The trick was to appear to have wild anarchy, while actually having a rigid skeleton of self-discipline to hold it together. It certainly wasn’t polished perfection, but the structure is there, and it has the impact I was after.
The storyteller of the first story brings that opening to a close, and commences the play proper. It was, I promise you, genuine serendipity that that storyteller was Ndivhuwo. Just lucky, I guess.