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In the Shadow of 'The Syringa Tree': An
Intimate Look at Apartheid South Africa
TIME.com talks to the star and creator of this
complex off-Broadway one-woman play
BY JENNIFER
HUNT
DAVID TURNLEY/CORBIS
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South African writer and actress Pamela Gien's new
one-woman play, "The Syringa Tree," is the tragic story of two
South African families — one black, one white — and the
complex love they share, even as race stands between them.
While this isn't unexplored territory, what makes this
production a standout is Gien's impressive performance in
creating 28 fully realized characters on a sparsely decorated
stage. Through her expressive movements and creative
vocalizations — most startlingly in rapid-fire exchanges
between six-year old Elizabeth and her redoubtable,
deep-voiced South African caretaker — Gien single-handedly
fills the stage with the people, music and verdant countryside
of South Africa.
Gien's dazzling performance only enhances the simple
emotional power of the tale. What we see through the eyes of
six-year-old Elizabeth, her black caretaker and the others who
populate this story is that apartheid was not only fought in
the frontline political struggle broadcast around the world,
but also in the closely knit circles of families, in the
intimacies of individual relationships and in the quiet but
fierce struggles of personal conscience.
TIME.com sat down with Pamela Gien to talk about her work:
TIME.com: How much
of the play is autobiographical?
PG: The play is
semi-autobiographical. I based it on some true incidents in my
early life in South Africa, one being the murder of my
grandfather on his farm. It was the very early days of the
struggle for freedom, the late '60s, and we had never heard of
anything like that happening before. My grandfather was a
gentle man who cared deeply for the black families who lived
unofficially on his farm. His attacker was never found; he was
assumed to be a freedom fighter from Rhodesia who randomly
attacked my grandparents. It was such a painful event, I was
surprised to find it in my thoughts a few years ago.
Remembering it was really the beginning of the play. While I
based the play on two true incidents, I chose to write it as a
fictional story. I didn't want it to be a docudrama of my
life, and writing as a fiction gave me a way to speak to
something that belongs to all of us, something more profound,
incorporating the idea of freedom and human dignity. So it's a
fictional story, but one deeply invested with much of my life,
memories and feelings that I carry with me to this day.
TIME.com: Much of
the play is seen through the eyes of a six-year-old child,
Elizabeth. Why did you choose to use her voice?
PG: When I first
began to put the early pieces of the play together, the
child's voice came to me like a magical gift. She was just
there, tentative, joyful, almost inaudible. I don't recall how
I was as a child, but I certainly remember how I felt, and
I've written Elizabeth from that young, innocent place. She
takes us on the journey through the play, never commenting
politically, only witnessing. She tells us what she sees, and
the audience feels what she must be feeling. I think she's a
gift because she brings us back to that early place, that
magical and joyful heart of an innocent, trying to make sense
of the injustice around her, and also reveling in her own
joyful spirit. And that's what the audiences say they find so
entertaining and transporting.
TIME.com: Does it
exhaust you to cover 28 characters? How do you prepare for it?
PG: Yes, it's
physically and emotionally arduous, but so rewarding. I have
tremendous gratitude for the challenge of it. I was so lucky
to work intensively with my director Larry Moss on building
the characters, creating their sounds, their movements, their
psychological gestures, etc., and when I get tired I go to
their tasks, what each character is trying to accomplish in
any moment, what their obstacles are, how they're trying to
get what they need. Larry is the champion of specificity and
would not rest until we had mined everything there was to be
found. And we're still finding things! I think that's the
exciting part of the piece. It's an enormous challenge,
physically and emotionally. I don't do much other than the
show, but I'm excited to meet the challenge of seven shows a
week for these magnificent audiences in New York. Their
laughter and deep feeling give me energy!
TIME.com: Did you
deliberately make things morally ambiguous?
PG: I didn't want
the play to be a political lecture of any kind, because I
think the most powerful thing is for the audience to make its
own judgments, for people to be entertained in a way that also
may cause them to think and/or feel deeply. The play has a
strong human message, a spiritual message, but it doesn't
moralize. It speaks to our connections to one another, our
shared loves and dreams, the earth we rise up out of, and
remain connected to our whole lives, and those we carry with
us, wherever we go. I think that's a powerful idea, one that
gives me great hope for the future, for peace and equality in
the world. Apartheid had no winners. We all lost. It was a sad
and disgraceful time, and I hope the play shows the
complexities. "The Syringa Tree" takes a very strong stand
against oppression, but not by lecturing or sermonizing. I
tried to write what I feel, that, black or white, good and
evil live in our hearts, not in the color of our skin.
TIME.com: What are
your thoughts on the hopes for true reconciliation in South
Africa? In what ways do you hope "The Syringa Tree" can help
foster this?
PG: I have great
hope for true reconciliation in South Africa, as I do for
peace in the world. There are so many brave and extraordinary
South Africans who worked tirelessly for change, some at great
personal risk to themselves, and they are the real heroes.
They continue now, everyday, to rebuild and regrow what I know
will be a miraculous place, the new South Africa. I think
South Africans there, and all over the world, have a unique
perspective and a unique opportunity to build love and joy
where there was sorrow and despair. It will take time, but I
have great faith in the outcome. If "The Syringa Tree" can be
a tiny part of a new message of hope and joy, I'm honored and
deeply grateful.
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