The Great Privation, Woolly Mammoth Theatre, Washington, DC

 

Victoria Omoregie as Charity and Yetunde Felix-Ukwu as Mother in The Great Privation at Woolly Mammoth Theatre. Photo credit: Cameron Whitman.

Part of the legacy of this nation’s history of the enslavement of Africans torn from their homelands is – and unfortunately may continue to be – the marginalization of African Americans in the area of healthcare. One of the most famous (and infamous) examples is “The Tuskegee Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Negro Male,” in which the United States Public Health Service and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention studied approximately 400 Black men, for 40 years, from 1932 to 1972. Available treatments were withheld, resulting in much suffering and many deaths that could easily have been avoided. In this and similar circumstances, the lives of African Americans were (and perhaps are) controlled by societal and government (White) establishment. The men were literally human guinea pigs.

The Great Privation (How to flip ten cents into a dollar) introduces a 19^th century custom of which I had no idea: “resurrectionists,” who dug up the remains of African Americans in order to sell them for scientific study, for example to medical colleges. In other words, these “resurrectionists” were grave robbers, though there was no treasure to find. Perhaps even more accurately, they were “body snatchers.” According to the Cambridge Dictionary, “privation” describes “a lack of the basic things that are necessary for an acceptable standard of living.” Primary among those is bodily autonomy, control of one’s body in death as well as in life.

Nia Akilah Robinson’s play, currently on stage at Woolly Mammoth Theatre in a co-production with Boston’s Company One Theatre, focuses on a mother and her daughter, Charity, sitting watch at the grave of their husband and father in the cemetery at Philadelphia’s African Baptist Church in 1832. They are resolved to be there for three nights in order to prevent desecration of his grave, as that is how long it will allegedly take for the deceased man’s soul to make the journey to his homeland of Sierra Leone. Three days, 72 hours, is also the maximum amount of time that can pass before the cadaver will no longer be “good” for the intended use. A clock projected on the set starts with 72:00:00 on it and is updated as time passes.

Yetunde Felix-Ukwu as Mother, Zack Powell as John, and Victoria Omoregie as Charity in contemporary times in The Great Privation at Woolly Mammoth Theatre. Photo credit: Cameron Watson.

This situation is transposed with a contemporary scene in which a modern-day mother and daughter from New York find themselves working as counselors at a summer camp in Philadelphia, located at the same site. We move back and forth in time. In the past we see two men arrive, separately: one White (John), the second Black (a janitor from the nearby medical college). There can be no doubt about their intentions, because each arrives at the graveyard with a shovel and expresses surprise at finding the ladies in the cemetery so late at night. It seems that the White man Fsis almost expected, but that the Black janitor is there gets a response that suggests revulsion and shame at this betrayal to his race that disturbing the grave would be. In current times, when one of their fellow counselors, a young White man, departs suddenly, he leaves a package for the two women. When it is opened, a mysterious, almost supernatural connection between the past and present is exposed.

The dialogue between mother and daughter is dense but realistic between them as they discuss a wide variety of topics both in their 19^th century and 21^st century personas. Yetunde Felix-Ukwu brings a dignity, as well as resolve and warmth as the 19^th century mother and a bit of playfulness in her contemporary role. Victoria Omoergie’s Charity communicates that there are more similarities than differences between her historic self and the current one. She captures the teen insecurity and sassiness as well as a certain innocence.

As John the potential grave robber and John the fellow camp counselor, Zack Powell brings a certain menace to the first, and giddy mysteriousness and temper to the second. Marc Pierrre appears as the historic janitor and the contemporary Cuffee, who appears to be a lead camp counselor. As the former, he is both threatening and threatened; as the latter, he is fussy and frivolous. He also makes a brief and hilarious appearance as both women’s ideas of what God must look like, simultaneously.

Yetunde Felix-Ukwu and Marc Pierre in The Great Privation. Photo credit: Cameron Whitman.

At an hour and forty minutes and without an intermission, the play sometimes seems long. I suggest that the playwright employ some judicious editing. The pace is deliberate, and rushing it would not be fair to the characters and their situations. Even so, the intensity of the actors and tension in the situation largely hold the audience’s attention.

Mina Morita directs the play with loving care. She is working with a very talented team. Meghan Raham’s set manages to serve both 1832 and today easily, as well as to accommodate realistic grave digging. Designers Brandee Mathies (costumes), Amith Shandrashaker (lighting), and Lashawn Melton (hair and wig) each acquit themselves well. Bridgett C. Jackson is the dialect coach, who coaxes an unobtrusive and subtle New York accent for the contemporary characters, which helps the actresses differentiate between “then” and “now.”

Woolly Mammoth always delivers unexpected, thoughtful, and thought-provoking work that challenges its audiences. The Great Privation is an excellent example. The audience at the performance I attended was sparse; it deserves to be seen by more theatregoers.