Abok (Dance

giving them strength, a strength that becomes even more visible when they dance. I suggest that Delmati choreograph a fragment and the result is impeccable. We première the work on the day of the inauguration of the first LGBT Cultural Expression Week to be held in Equatorial Guinea. This is an initiative of the Spanish Embassy, and signifies a revolution in the country and throughout Africa. Using the acronym means that a large proportion of the population does not realise what this new white extravagance is about. In Guinea, as in most of Africa, homosexuality is taboo, in many cases illegal, and the punishment is severe. It is neither named nor can be named. The dance piece is called The night of the times and it is a total success.

Second part of the project. July and August

Abraham Gragera, my partner and artistic collaborator in the company, comes to visit me during the last month and ends up taking part in the project. We decide to divide the group into two, according to their ability. The intention is to work intensively with those who have most talent and vocation, with the idea of bringing the piece to Spain. I feel this would be a great opportunity for them and that it is my duty to try. The division causes discomfort on both sides. They are tribal, a collective body, a cohesive cultural group, a kind of family. I explain that it isn’t practical for everyone to travel, but that this is only the beginning of a long-term project and that, if everything goes well, there will be more opportunities. They don’t understand and they don’t feel reassured, but they have no choice in the matter, and have to accept it. For the elite group, I select six dancers, four boys and two girls, but in a few days the number falls to five: Pedro, Naftalí, Richie, Miguel and Iris, the only girl. It’s the August holidays and many will go back to their home towns. Richie, who becomes Delmati’s second in command, is the new leader. Together with Miguel, he is an exceptional dancer, specialising in urban dances, with a sensitivity that allows him to express a wealth of nuance and textures without having to resort to acrobatics. His virtuosity is poetic. He is a perfectionist; he spends many hours dancing. We make a secret alliance. He wants to dance in Spain, and he needs the group to respond and for everything to go well. Miguel is a dance genius, more strongly influenced than others by tribal dances, but with a modern interpretation, creative and wild. In his dance, a playful nature is mixed with a tremendously dark energy. When he dances, I feel that his dead ancestors accompany him. Miguel is always laughing, always teasing, feinting. When he dances his smile makes his face a mask. When he dances, there is something there, something that is impossible, but nonetheless real. I think he is the best dancer I’ve seen in my life. Neftalí dances very well and has a beautiful quality. He has a lot of talent and infinite potential, but perhaps he doesn’t take dance so seriously. Pedro does not have all the dance skills of the others; however, he has a lot of dramatic talent. Abraham saw that the very first day, and became fascinated by him. He is the one who best understands the piece, the one who is most capable of giving depth to the gestures, of finding meaning in looks and contact. He and Iris take on the most theatrical fragments of the piece, heavy with specific meaning. Somehow, they are the protagonists of the piece. Iris has an impressive stage presence, strength and depth, despite having fewer resources as a dancer. During my stay, I give classes at an American school to children from rich families. I ask the

director of the school if one of my dancers can take the job when I return to Spain. He agrees and I decide to let them draw lots for it. When I tell the group, they can’t believe it. Getting a job as a dance teacher is a miracle, and the monthly salary the school pays, even more. Richie and Pedro are the finalists. They are nervous, it’s a question of luck. Richie wins, but Pedro is very happy, almost more so than him, jumping and shouting with joy, as if the most important thing were that good luck was floating above the heads of his people, no matter who won the draw. While we work on Abok (“Dance” in the Fang language), a piece of contemporary dance inspired by and reflecting part of its tribal and urban folklore, the Cultural Centre seeks obtain finance for the project and prepares logistical questions, such as the necessary visas. On the day of my return to Spain, I still could not assure them that their trip would take place.

I return to Spain. September

A few days after arriving I receive an audio message from one of the students. Pedro has drowned at sea while crossing from the island of Malabo to the mainland. A few days later, Iris is denied a visa because, being an orphan and a minor, no family member is willing to sign her permission form. Not all projects fail in Guinea. It is not an apathetic country. It is a country with living conditions that are unimaginable to us, from our privileged position in the world, not even when we are there. “Pedro would have liked them to come to Spain - I think - I’m sure of it”. He would be happy if luck were to continue floating over their heads. They come to Spain and we première Abok at the Territorio Danza Festival, in the Cuarta Pared (Fourth Wall) Hall. The members of the company La Phármaco (musicians, dancers, production team) help us adapt the piece for the three dancers who, in the end, were able to come. The day of the première arrives. It is a total success. They dance better than ever. What impresses them most about Madrid, as well as the rehearsal rooms at the Canal Dance Centre, are the dogs: so clean, so well groomed, even dressed. Now, they send me WhatsApp messages, asking when they can visit Spain again. Now, I’m working on Bekristen (“Christians” in the Fang language), a trilogy about the images and reflections experienced during and after the trip. The first chapter is called Domestication, and will première in November 2019 at the Canal Theatre in Madrid. Miguel, the dance genius, is coming to Spain for four months to be part of the cast. Getting him a work permit has not been easy. I hope this will be the start of a lasting dialogue and that my company be a space in which they can develop as artists. I hope that when Miguel returns to Guinea he will not become part of the comfortable elite, but will use his experience to combat a terrible, unfair reality, for which the President’s management is not solely responsible. Our governments and businessmen are also to blame, it is they who have exploited the freedom of the former colony in their own economic and political interests.

Alberto Conejero Shared campfires

Theatre always needs the first-person plural. Without a “we” it’s impossible for theatre to happen. Bodies must be united in a single space and time for theatre to happen; our emotions must be swayed with those of other people, to move them, to view ourselves elsewise, to wonder what we are but, above all, to imagine who we could be, to feel what others have inspired in us. In theatre, we must look together – that is where the word’ theatre’ comes from, it is the place where we go to watch, all together, to see ourselves. I think it was Juan Mayorga who said that theatre is a school of moral imagination. And of emotional imagination, too. Because theatre makes us feel a threatening compassion for Others; each show splits us in two, between who we are and who we might be. Because theatre is never a slavish mirror. The French historian Vidal-Naquet talks about Greek tragedy as a “broken mirror” in which each fragment “portrays both one social reality and every other”. The stage emits unexpected images of ourselves, reminds us of everything that stirs, threatening, beyond the limits of the polis, of our supposedly controlled everyday reality. Theatre, then, is an exercise in wonderment, in stepping outside ourselves. As is every true journey. My invitation from AECID to give a playwright workshop in Spanish Cooperation Cultural Centres, in Chile, Uruguay and Peru, successively, as part of the DramaTOURgia programme, met this double condition, presenting a journey and theatre, together. It was a learning opportunity, of professional interest but, above all, offering personal growth, facilitated by effective cooperation between the AECID and the National Drama Centre. At the same time, it represented an enormous responsibility. Some years previously, I had taken part in the Iberescena programme, a learning experience that forever changed my way of understanding theatre. On this latter occasion I was the workshop instructor, travelling through Latin America. Of the four countries assigned, I had only previously visited Chile and, in general, my knowledge of their theatrical language was scant and fragmentary. The journey began in Colombia. The workshop was given in the amazing Teatro Colón of Bogotá; this is the national theatre and it is considered one of the marvels of the country. It was also where the peace treaty was signed between the FARC and the Colombian Government, shortly before my visit. There I experienced at first-hand the vibrant theatre world in the capital. I was already aware of the vitality of its theatres, from contact with colleagues such as Tania Cárdenas and Eric Layton, but being in the city allowed me to visit groups like La maldita vanidad (led by Jorge Hugo Marín) and the legendary Teatro de la Candelaria. In Bogota I met wonderful colleagues, each with their own experiences and expectations. But from the first day just sitting down and writing scenes together, imagining possible worlds, possible lives… it created bridges between us in a