The art of spoken word: The 14th Tale

It must have been because of the freezing cold that night, but somehow I remembered the way from Waterloo Train Station to the National Theatre. I was only three buildings away when I asked some security people where the venue was. However, my journey -through what felt like Siberia to me- was not over yet. The space for Inua Ellam’s spoken word performance was around the corner. If only I had known that before ending up in the car park basement and climbing six staircases up.

Fortunately, I did not receive any hassle at reception and I could make my way into the theatre pretty quick. I squeezed past a lovely couple to my assigned seat. It was really cramp in between two other people, so I had the option of either punching someone in the face accidentally...or just keeping my jacket on. I chose the latter, although I did manage to free myself from the buttons. The back of the chair was also extremely uncomfortable. I had to give in sometimes and try to shovel to find a less painful position.

The play began about five minutes after I had entered to my luck. The 14th Tale features actor Inua Ellam telling a compelling story from his naughty childhood to manhood. I wonder if all his experiences and ‘scatter head’ antics really did happen, but it was all very convincing. I will have to ask the star himself when he visits one of Adinkra Film Nights again in the future.

The whole theatre darkens and Inua is sitting on a chair placed in the far right corner. There is a bright light shining on him. His head is on his knees, between his arms. Sounds of a hospital start to rise up. Inua lifts his upper body, raises his finger as though asking a question and walks to an imaginary desk –where there seems to be no one.
He starts talking so fast, that I’m concentrating on concentrating itself and loose the essence of his monologue.
I’m panicking inside, because I really don’t want to sit there for 55 minutes without understanding what the play is about.
He returns to his seat and returns his head on his lap. Once again he repeats the raising hand and walking to the ‘desk’. He begins talking fast again, but thankfully this time I understand him.
“I’m from a long line of trouble makers, of ash skinned Africans, born with clenched fists and a natural thirst for battle, only quenched by breast milk.”

The whole audience bursts into laughter when he pauses after the word ‘breast milk’ –how immature, but I join in. Inua continues speaking about his grandfather’s naughty ways as a child. Then about his father being a rascal in high school. And then himself growing up in a Nigerian boarding school. He gets into trouble so many times, that he creates strategies on escaping to do hard work and softening the blows of cane lashes by placing extra fabric in his pants. His father never gets angry, just laughs and says: “There is a vague connection to everything in life, son. Your time will come.” That’s not what many parents would tell their child...

At the age of twelve he leaves his best friend in tears, as he immigrates the UK with his family. Troubles start again at school when he learns that it’s illegal to beat children. He causes so much havoc in school that the teachers don’t even care or notice after a while. He finds himself a Chinese friend who shares the same tingling in his spine after they finish passing water (he used words much more extreme which I will spare readers from). He grabs his manly bits quite a few times when boasting. The audience found it quite hilarious, but I was quite shocked initially.

For the third time he returns to his seat, head on his lap. This time he gets through to a doctor and speaks with his friend lying on a bed. Apparently his friend –and Inua?- got into trouble and now the guy will never be able to walk again...

Growing up Inua moves from London to Dublin and back again. He falls in love with gorgeous girls, but then one he truly desires ‘doesn’t do relationships’. He still remains head over heels for her and finds her with another man one day. At night he decides to break into her house by entering through an open bathroom window... He grabs the showerhead, screws the top of and fills it with red paint. His phone suddenly rings and as he tries to whisper his ex catches him. He manages to calm her down and gets bad news on the phone...

His father is ill. Inua’s time has come. He sees the vague connection to happenings in life. He becomes a man. And wonders whether his own son would one day see the vague connection as well.

The 14th Tale with Inua Ellams will be at the National Theatre until March 13th. So make sure to go and see this amazing performance that will leave you mesmerized.

By Aichel Moreno Bautista