After a successful 1hr 10min run (well, 1hr 16, but I‘m sure it WILL BE 1hr 10 at the most), we packed up the set and props and transferred them from the Masonic hall to the driveway behind the theatre at Rhodes where our trailer was waiting to be loaded. The complex task of fitting the R&J set as well as the “Door” set was aided by Dion’s friend Nicky who is massively experienced in production touring and is a professional set fitter-inerer. The arrangement was notated and photographed for repeating the process on tour.
day of departure
Ilana, Sisonke, Thami and Themba
Themba, Thami and Sisonke
Ubom! Company management came out to farewell us then we set off on the road. We have a cleverly structured and fair rotating driving/navigating schedule as well as an elaborate chore list delegating responsibilities for each day. I started up front with Dion driving. Obviously my exceptional navigational ability was not required on this first leg as it was familiar terrain. Dion and I tried to remember some Abba lyrics for a sing-along but failed miserably and decided to discuss the play instead.
The morning’s run had gone very well. First time in full costume with all the props. Only one or two of the new changes and script cuts caused slight hiccups, but mostly the play is buzzing along with strong performances, a clear trajectory and good pacing. A couple of cues still to tighten up, and line security could still be improved, but I’m still impressed with what we’ve achieved and am certain the positivity will be contagious enough to lead to success.
Driving a shuttle bus (there are 9 of us traveling) with the massive trailer behind, is actually a little scary, especially on some of the windy roads. And of course, it began to rain the moment we left Grahamstown. Manouvering in petrol stations and in small streets is particularly stressful for all, and reversing is not the most desirable option. While the day’s travelling was mostly surprisingly quiet – no singing or even much chit-chat, (perhaps they are exhausted for some reason?) the energy picked up as we neared the stop-over destination for the night. We entered Umthatha in high spirits nearing hysteria, which soon dissipated as we got progressively more lost. Umthatha (or Umtata) is the birthplace of Madiba – Nelson Mandela. Consequently their are a vast number of bed and breakfasts in the town. And consequently, there are hundreds and hundreds of boards advertising these bed and breakfasts, none of which are significantly eye-catching (especially not in poorly-lit streets) or useful in terms of directions. After stopping and asking directions several times, and after finding signs for our “Brats B&B” (Brats? Interesting) that were not remotely helpful, and after some seriously difficult trailer negotiations, the general mood became somewhat highly strung. An hour after arriving in the (smallish) town, we finally found our rest stop for the evening, unloaded the bus, checked in, went to bed. I had an horrific dream about a tsunami. Rising waters, eradicated landscape, bare and bleak survival. I’m going to disregard Freud and blame the incessant water feature outside of my room.
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