The Tempest and our times

Hopefully, people are noting that amid pervasive sadness and endemic turbulence, our writers, filmmakers, visual and performing artists are producing at a dizzying rate and, in the process, offering sharper awareness of possibilities and glimmers of hope.

The much-maligned young are leading the way in alleviating the multi-dimensional impacts of a failed generation. People still intent on promoting a notion of the same “good old days” that installed the brittle social, economic, and political infrastructure for all we now endure.

None of this is an attempt to diminish the magnitude of the challenges we face, or to suggest an easy solution. Or even to entirely dismiss past gains. But there are real questions related to viability and sustainability whose answers, if there are any, we cannot escape or resist.

There are civilisations far greater than ours over time that have declined, decayed, and eventually disappeared.

One of these days, I propose to put to anyone who pays attention, the suggestion that the required recalibration in how we think, and act threatens convulsions with tsunamic implications for the way politics, religion, law, medicine, engineering, journalism, and public thought and action are currently conducted.

Responses to the incidence of flooding tell us all we need to know about how societies are sometimes prone to self-delusion and myth.

Earnest, truthful interventions will find little space for any of these institutions and vocations in their current conditions. A complete rethink of our engagement of development will become necessary to assure that something resembling a future as a sovereign state remains on the horizon.

For sure, we are not alone in this. Our neighbours are similarly challenged, and we would do well to note the dramatic decline of highly touted exemplars further away. In the end, we may all have to encounter these challenges together, as is the case with resolving the climate crisis. To a great degree, we are not.

But, back to this glimmer of hope thing. I cannot recall a time when creative powers of this magnitude have emerged to counter false assertions of hopelessness. Follow Franka and Soyini and Barbara-Anne and Laura around and you will not survive half their itineraries – and they cover limited ground.

Music, books, art, drama, and dance are everywhere you turn. For some of us, emerging from the Covid cocoon has been slow and deliberate.

For me, there have just been Ramleela, the Independence and other art exhibitions, pan has resumed (and I have followed from some distance … but not for long), and the stages are coming alive with the sounds of music, poetry, and drama. Last Saturday there was UWI DCFA Jazz.

There are at least half a dozen new Caribbean books to acquire and read. And that is only by the folks I know and follow closely as friends and colleagues.

I had in fact initially thought about focusing today exclusively on the National Theatre Arts Company’s production of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, under the expert direction of Belinda Barnes. Because both the substance of the play and the space it provides for contemporary interpretation offered an opportunity to help us understand where we stand in 2022 T&T.

In the end, I suspect Belinda chose a less potentially contentious path. The plot, of course, (don’t feel bad, I could not remember much of it either) is so riddled with twists and turns there would have been multiple opportunities to exploit the numerous metaphors that awaited.

The task fell to the “narrative links” represented by two re-purposed Roman deities and one Greek goddess who become storytelling washer, obeah, and market women.

Island spirit, Ariel, was magnificently played by Syncytia Bishop and lead character, Prospero, by veteran Nickolai Salcedo on the evening I attended.

This is so much of our current crises and trials in The Tempest. There was a young talented cast to interpret this on stage, and to provide the links. This provided an irresistible opportunity that was not fully exploited, in my view, though the main principles were touched.

An overthrow and subsequent island exile. Insecure leadership. Magic (or the need for it). Vengeance. Rage. Love. And an eventual resolution.

All of this as our days of floods, continued violence, political intrigue, and cynical exploitation of grief and suffering continue.

There is something in the way the play’s surprising, non sequiturial conclusion (as presented on stage) raised questions of the kind we currently confront that are not easily dismissed.

NTACTT’s rendition, complete with original music by Nickolai Salcedo and others, supported by the National Steel Symphony Orchestra, helped take us on a journey we dare not fail to navigate.