Literature and Drama Editor Laura Kiely sits down with Co-Director and Co-Writer Praise Titus of The Arínolá Theatre Company to discuss her upcoming play Ololufe at Dublin Fringe Festival 2024.
How did the Arínolá Theatre Company begin?
"I was involved in UCD Dramsoc for over two years, and there I did a play called We Dance. It ended up going to the Irish Student Drama Awards in 2022 and it did very well there. Through that I met Tishé Fatunbi, one of our other founders, and obviously, Usher Titus is my sister, and together we sort of brought a more diverse group into Dramsoc, in terms not just of the cast and crew but the audience as well.
Diversity in Irish theatre is something that we all felt was a huge problem. There’s very little to no real diversity in both the people who are taking part onstage and backstage; which becomes reflected in the audience as well. People don’t come to see plays when they don’t see themselves reflected onstage in any capacity. It was Tishé who pushed us to form Arínolá Theatre as a group since we were already working sort of independently of Dramsoc. It was very impromptu but we’re all very glad that we did it.
The Arínolá Theatre Company celebrates and facilitates the artistry of People Of Colour (POC) in Ireland. How do you feel Ololufe will showcase a celebration of Black womanhood and femininity?
"I feel like when we think about representation, it’s purely who we see onstage. But the reality is that there’s so much more that goes into theatre or film or music or whatever it is that we don’t see. When you don’t have diversity in those areas it trickles down and affects the whole process. In our crew, we’ve tried as much as possible to have either POC acting the roles, or have a person who is White that we know and trust who is willing to pass on that knowledge. I think the biggest problem is that people don’t know where to get the knowledge from, and so it never diversifies. It seems a hard thing to understand I suppose if you’ve never had to deal with it, but people will not go to the theatre if they feel the stories do not reflect them.
With this play, it’s about Nigerian weddings which is a very specific thing and people are like, ‘oh, I know about that!’ And they’ll buy the ticket even if they’ve never attended a play before. In this way, it slowly expands that viewership and through that it expands who is getting involved in theatre. Obviously, there’ll be White people at Ololufe even though this is not a play about them; but there’ll still be elements that resonate with them.
At the end of the day, we’re all just human beings, and so I think it’s just about showcasing that there is that welcome from the start by just having a different story told. And then after the fact, if even in two years we do a play and the entire cast is White people, it doesn’t mean that no POC will not come to see it because it’s been established that we do plays about POC as well, as opposed to never being or feeling seen.
What is the central theme of Ololufe? What inspired you to write about it and what kind of symbolism does a Nigerian wedding conjure in the play? Are there real-life snippets in there based on characters you know and experiences you’ve had?
We wanted to apply for Fringe this year there was the possibility of applying with We Dance since we did it privately last time. However, we knew it would feel repetitive to do it a third time. We wanted something new and Tishé was basically like: Well, what’s the most dramatic event you’ve ever experienced? And the answer was a Nigerian wedding, which allowed us to focus down on tradition as our major theme. I think for a lot of people who are third, second or even first-generation immigrants, there is this need to feel connected to the place where your family is from. However, there is this disconnect because you were not there nor are you there now to see how the culture looks. I feel this is something Irish people understand a little too. There is and always has been a huge Irish diaspora and when you look at Irish people who are living in Australia, America or Canada, they have this image of Ireland that is old. It doesn’t exist anymore. Culturally speaking for Nigerians, especially of Yoruba culture, as a child you’re meant to have this reverence for your parents that means if they do something you’re not happy with, you essentially have to take it and not say anything. And that’s not healthy, but it is the culture. We’re seeing this through the sibling characters specifically and how it manifests when you abide by that, and you just do what your parents say, and you don't question them, and you go along with their plan for you, and how that affects you. But then when you don't, and you say no, how that affects you differently, and we see it with all four of the “child” characters, we see how this culture affects them positively and negatively in both senses. This play is about discussing these things rather than passing judgement on them. Everyone’s going to have their own impulses, we want to open up the discussion more than anything else.
Your work contains both serious themes and comical elements. How do you navigate the line between showcasing serious themes whilst still escorting it with nuanced wit. It’s certainly not easy to do, do you feel it comes naturally?
I think the act of trying to tell a joke is very difficult like comedians have one of the most difficult jobs ever because there’s a science to fabricating an actual joke. But when you’re just pulling the funny out of something that already exists it’s about looking at it a different way. Specifically, with Ololufe, because it’s a wedding, it’s so high energy and there’s always something happening. There are times onstage when a character is taking something very seriously, yet it’s funny for the audience because it’s ridiculous and that’s the humour of it. Sometimes it’s the franticness that’s funny or how the characters are displaying this heightened sense of self. It’s better to try and find the funny that already exists. And from my experience, that’s what makes the writing part way easier.
On a personal level, what inspired you to become a playwright? Were you inspired by any specific show you’ve seen growing up or is it a recent discovery?
The first play I ever saw was For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/ When the Rainbow is Enuf by Ntozake Shange. I was a teenager then and I just thought it was the most amazing thing ever. When I came to UCD I joined both DramSoc and MusicalSoc but DramSoc was the one that just kind of stuck. I really wanted to put Shange’s play on but couldn’t as it was touring West End at the time. My friend told me to write something and I was kind of like, well, how? So, I decided to pay homage to the play that started it all for me. And then the girls all sort of came together and we wrote as many poems as we could to create what became We Dance. Playwriting for me came suddenly. And out of necessity more so than interest. But once I was writing, I realised I love doing this.
Lastly, you are encouraging your audience to come dressed in clothing traditional to a wedding of their culture, what is your expectation? Is your intention for them to engage with your work from their own cultural perspective?
The idea behind the request is that everyone attending is a wedding guest. So, if you’re coming, you are a guest at this wedding that is happening right in front of you. I don’t want to spoil anything; but the whole idea is that these two people are getting married and the question is, should they be? And if you’re viewing this from your own cultural perspective you might think, how does marriage work where I’m from? Do people get married very young? Is it normal today to marry later? Does it just happen when it happens? Is the culture overly concerned about when you marry? I think identifying with it from your own cultural perspective, if you’re not Nigerian, is a huge part of the play. This idea of not disappointing your parents exists everywhere, it is not unique to Nigerian people. It might be more intense in some cultures than others, but it definitely exists everywhere. So, I think from that perspective, it’d be very interesting if attendees actually do sit into themselves and think about how it would pan out from within their own family’s cultural traditions.
Ololufe is being previewed in The Lir Academy in studio two at 6:15pm on Saturday 7 September, and is being performed at 8:45pm from September 8-11.