Sunday Feature: Paul Van Dyck on adapting Oronooko

(photo credit:
Camille McQuat)

Adaptation and Inspiration

On Africa, malaria, Aphra Behn and her legacy: Oroonoko

by Paul Van Dyck

I once spent several months living in a 17th century German slave trading fortress on the coast of Ghana. I was travelling across Africa at the time, a zigzagging adventure from Morocco to Egypt, and happened to meet a documentary filmmaker looking for a camera operator. I had recently finished a degree in film studies and offered my services. The next day, I was bumping up and down in the back of a tro-tro jeep through dense jungle on a muddy and treacherous road towards the sea. The journey was well worth it. On a hill overlooking a warm turquoise ocean, flanked by an endless white sand beach on one side and a vibrant little village known as Prince’s Town on the other, rested this ancient and ominous fortress.

I fell in love with the place; with the happy villagers, the gorgeous surroundings, and the tranquility it offered to a weary traveller. It was a kind of paradise. My room was the highest turret of the fortress. In the mornings, before I set off to film the idyllic surroundings, I would go down to the beach where some of the village boys were eager to show off their skills of scrambling up palm trees to fetch me fresh coconuts. They nicknamed me “Prince Paul”. A title I quickly became accustomed to.

Van Dyck in a slave castle

But then at night, lying in bed listening to the ocean winds howl through the dungeon below my turret, the true history of this building began to impress itself upon me. Although I don’t necessarily believe in ghosts, there was something haunted about this place. It’s estimated that 300, 000 Africans were transported through this building. On the east side, still yet to be swallowed by the jungle, is the “path of no return”; an ancient walkway leading down to the ocean where great ships waited to depart for the Americas. Other than storing slaves, this fortress also offered protection during times of tribal war for the tribes that hunted slaves for the Germans. The Germans had attempted capturing slaves themselves, but quickly found that paying Africans to do this work for them was much more civilized. By staying locked up in their castle, the Germans believed they could avoid catching “Jungle Fever”, known today as malaria. But even their mighty fortress couldn’t keep that out: every German that came here, died here, far from their home, with little understanding of what killed them.

I left the day after Christmas.

While my days were filled with sun, sand, and smiles, my nights became plagued with dreams of this building’s monstrous past. The howling dungeon winds transformed into the howling occupants of centuries ago. In a sweaty midnight daze, I found myself wandering to the courtyard to watch the undulating black shadows of jungle foliage sway back and forth in a steady linked procession towards the path of no return. Sometimes I even thought I heard the rattle of their chains.

It wasn’t long before I discovered that what had killed the Germans was now very much alive in my own blood.

I left the day after Christmas.

Cured of malaria and back in Montreal, a friend gave me a copy of Aphra Behn’s 17th century novel, Oroonoko. It’s all about an African Prince who becomes a slave in Suriname, a British colony at the time. The story begins on the very coastline I had visited, and as read it, the perplexity I had felt during my time in that fortress flooded back to me. I finished the short book in a day and knew immediately that I wanted to adapt it into a play. Of course the book was ripe for dramatic interpretation (I’m not the first to turn it into a play), but there was a greater drive than just theatrical practice. I felt compelled to share with my community the distress I felt about this horrific chapter in human history. I wanted to remind myself that I wasn’t alone in this feeling. And if theatre is good for anything, it’s to prove that we are not alone.

  

Although I was eager to start writing, I knew I would have to educate myself on all aspects of this story, including the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, the social and political landscape of the 17th century, and the life of the original author herself. It was not until I began digging deep into the mysterious life of Aphra Behn that I discovered a newfound inspiration for the work ahead. Not only was Ms. Behn the first successful female writer in the English language, Oroonoko is considered the first humanitarian novel in English. In fact, it may even be the first English novel ever. It gets better. Before her career as a writer, Ms. Behn made a living as a spy for King Charles II. She was also a political activist and a bisexual. The more I discovered about this trail blazing figure, the more it became obvious that I must include her as a character in the play. By doing so, a juxtaposition of the title character with his original author occurred, which then grew into a thematic juxtaposition of the Trans-Atlantic slave trade and the predicament of women everywhere. Although I believe this comparison to be deeply flawed, it came about as a natural and inevitable aspect of the creation of this play, which I enabled as a demand of the play rather than the playwright.

Thirty days later, a first draft had been written.

After about two years of research, I was ready to start writing. I locked myself in my apartment and began a routine of writing eight to twelve hours a day, stopping only to eat, sleep, and occasionally bathe. Thirty days later, a first draft had been written.

Following a number of rewrites, I was ready to get some feedback. I started sending the script to theatre companies, playwriting competitions, and friends. The response was bitter sweet. Most people were encouraging but noted that the play would be impossible to produce. One Artistic Director told me it should be a movie, not a play. Another admitted he couldn’t get past the first page where it listed a cast size of thirteen and told me to send him something when I’d written a two-hander.

Being well acquainted with artistic rejection, I decided to do what I always did; produce it myself. That’s when I began to believe what I’d been told. This play isn’t producible. A cast of over a dozen ethnically diverse actors performing an epic trans-continental period piece tragedy? I should start working on that two-hander.

But no! This play is worth it. It is a story of consequence. And it deserves to be told. If there is not a single company willing to produce it, then what about two companies?

I had separately approached Montréal Arts Interculturels [MAI] and Persephone Productions. Both companies where very much interested in the piece. But it wasn’t until I played matchmaker for the two that this production was certain to become a reality.

Suddenly, I was not alone. There were actors, designers, and producers all driven as much as I was to bring this story to life. People really believed in it. Lots of people. Talented people!

Everyday working on it with them has been an affirmation of my initial instincts. This story does deserve to be told. We all feel it. Together we are creating something greater than ourselves. 

I can’t say what the final outcome of this project will be. I know it’s the most ambitious production I have ever done. And it may very well be a disaster. By telling one story in the context of a greater historical event, the risk of trivializing this event is ever present. I believe that everyone involved in this production came to it from a place of love, and we all hope that instead of trivializing historical events, this play reminds its audience of the everlasting consequence of these events and allows us to acknowledge our shared confusion, our shared grief, and finally, our shared solace.

Sincerely,

Paul Van Dyck

Oroonoko is at MAI From February 6-17
Read also Joel Fishbane's profile of the author