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Simply divine By Rita Felciano IT'S HARD TO conceive of Bay Area music without its Afro-Cuban component, but Afro-Cuban dance has yet to assume similar prominence. Its imagery and movement patterns are often based on stories about the Orisas – intermediaries between the gods and humans in the Yoruba religion – which West Africans brought with them during the Middle Passage. While the soft undulations of Yemaya, associated with the ocean, and the assertive leaps of Sango, in charge of thunder and lightning, occasionally make an appearance at ethnic dance festivals, the wisdom that gave rise to these traditional dances isn't as well-known. That's why dancer-director Tania Llambelis, a diminutive New Yorker of Puerto Rican descent, created Patakin, a dance-theater piece based on some of the hundreds of Yoruba fables that survived the voyage to the new world. "Patakines, called lukumi in Cuba," Llambelis said, "are proverbs and stories which explain a very complicated universe. Individually, they are like pieces of the divine puzzle." Presented by the Oni Ochun Cultural Center, Patakin – with a cast of more than 20, music by Michael Spiro, and choreography by Susana Arenas Pedroso – will be performed this Friday and Saturday at ODC Theater in San Francisco. At a late-summer rehearsal in Oakland's Fellowship Hall, the show's chants, drums, and texts in Spanish and English created a different atmosphere than is usually found on the corner of Broadway and 27th Street. But then the Orisas are known for their ability to lift the mundane into a realm of magic. To find performers, Llambelis held a number of auditions in the Caribbean community. Word of mouth quickly spread. "Some people just wanted to try something new," Llambelis said. "That's OK with me." While some performers have more experience than others, there was no mistaking the professional focus and energy level everyone brought to this particular rehearsal, which started at 9 p.m. in order to accommodate everyone's work and family obligations. The river goddess Osun's quicksilver laughter peeled into the Oakland night like so many silver bells. Yemaya undulated her skirts. As the hunter Ochosi, a lanky teenager lustily threw himself into his simple paces and just barely missed the powerful Ocho's impressive machete. Choreographer Pedroso quietly observed, and at this point had no corrections. The musicians knew their stuff even without Spiro's prompting. Downstage at a card table, playwright Joyce Thompson discretely consulted with Patakin's narrator. Thompson's script walks a fine line between the incantatory quality of myth-telling and an earthy robustness that comes straight out of urban living. Patakines address familiar questions about the origin of humankind and the gulf that developed between gods and humans. In marked contrast to the humorless accounts often found in Western thought, a lovely whimsy fills these Yoruba fables. According to Yoruba religion, for instance, the first human was made out of clay by Obatala, the creator of man and the world's first sculptor. One of Patakin's incidents hilariously dramatizes how some of the industrious Obatala's works turned out less than perfect because he had drunk too much palm wine. In another episode, Llambelis becomes a beautiful peacock who rises to the heavens to implore the Sky God to return water to the parched earth. While the peacock lost its plumage, the fable tells us, this self-sacrifice turned it into a powerful vulture. Suggestions for living are imbedded in many of these stories: "Hunt as a team, and you will never go hungry"; "Don't be so fast to judge someone"; "You can forgive yourself, if you take responsibility [for your actions]." But unlike the written-down parables found in the Christian Bible or the collection of fables Greek poet Aesop put together, these Yoruba tales mutated and evolved as they traveled across the ocean. "The way I understand it," Llambelis explained, "in Africa different people usually connected with only one of the Orisas. It was during the Middle Passage, when so many West Africans shared a common fate, that their stories and beliefs began to intermingle." She expanded further on the rationale behind Patakin: "It is our attempt to instill pride, wonder, and understanding into those whose ancestors suffered to protect and preserve their religion and pass it on. It is also our way of bringing the widely relevant wisdom, honor, and connection of lukumi to a broader audience." All of the principals in Patakin are Yoruba priests or priestesses, so this is more than just another show for them. Asked about the responsibilities of priesthood, Llambelis gives a simple but powerful three-word answer: "to do good." 'Patakin' runs Fri/24-Sun/26, 8 p.m. ODC Theater, 3153 17th St., S.F. $13-$15. (415) 863-9834. www.odctheater.org. |
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