ORISHAS ON THE STAGE:
UMD’s Production of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s In the Red and Brown Water
Tarell Alvin McCraney was raised in the inner-city housing projects of Liberty City, one
of the most dangerous and poverty-stricken neighborhoods of Miami, Florida. The eldest of four
children, he was faced at the tender age of twenty-three with the loss of his drug-addicted
mother, who passed away due to HIV complications brought on by drug use. In his adolescence,
however, McCraney was introduced to another mother, one who guided him through a spiritual
force, of which even he was unaware. Despite his Baptist upbringing, the young playwright-to-be
frequently encountered practitioners of Santeria and Voudoun, who would approach him saying,
“You are touched and blessed,” and “You are a child of Yemayá.” These surreal moments were
McCraney’s first glimpses into the vast mythological realm that would soon become central to
his theatrical career and the narrative crux of his acclaimed trilogy, The Brother/Sister Plays.
The religious practices of Santeria and Voudoun are Cuban and Haitian versions of the
Yoruba faith, a religion that had its original roots in West Africa, but was transported to the New
World when African slaves were brought to the Americas. In an attempt to preserve their African
ritual traditions, slaves would often hide their worship of Yoruba deities under the guise of
Roman Catholic saints. This resulted in a religious and cultural syncretism or blending of faiths,
which was primarily situated in Cuba, Brazil, and the Caribbean, but was also prominent in the
American South.
Perhaps the most pertinent example of this syncretism of Yoruba tradition with
Christianity is McCraney’s first visual encounter with Yemayá. He describes it not as a
pronounced image of the Yoruba deity of motherhood, but as a painting of the Virgin Mary
depicted as a black woman. This visual coming together of worlds signaled to McCraney the
hybrid religious and cultural context in which he existed. To him, the Yoruba faith in America
1
was not at all an exclusively West African religion, but a faith that was neither West African nor
European, but lay somewhere in between. Inspired by the ways in which the ancient archetypes
of West African Yoruba had transformed and morphed into contemporary American figures,
McCraney embarked on a journey to excavate the tremendously relevant stories of the Yoruba
cosmology and artfully re-imagine them onto the American stage.
This fall, the University of Maryland School of Theatre, Dance, and Performance
Studies’ main stage season features a production of In the Red and Brown Water, the first play of
McCraney’s celebrated Yoruba-inspired triad, The Brother/Sister Plays. Co-directed by Scot
Reese, head of the theatre performance cluster, and Alvin Mayes, director of undergraduate
dance studies, this production of McCraney’s play features a cast of ten talented undergraduate
students and runs from November 9 to November 16, 2012 in the Kogod Theatre of The Clarice
Smith Performing Arts Center.
In the Red and Brown Water takes place in the “distant present” of the fictional (perhaps
even mythical) town of San Pere, Louisiana. The play centers on the story of Oya, a young
sprinter growing up in the projects, whose dream is to go to school and escape from her limited
circumstances. When she loses her mother, and her only chance to go to school is ripped away
from her, she must find another way to leave her mark: motherhood. When this too becomes
impossible for her, she feels trapped in her circumstances and is driven into a depression by
societal pressures. The story is an adaptation of the famous Yoruba tales of Oya, the deity of
wind and of storms, and Oba, the deity of marriage and domesticity. McCraney’s play
recontextualizes these seemingly ancient stories in a contemporary African American community
in the housing projects of Louisiana.
2
What is unique about this particular production of In the Red and Brown Water is its
adaptation of McCraney’s vision of the Yoruba mythology as somewhere in between African
and American. UMD’s production takes on a distinctly African American mythology,
abandoning some of the stylistically West African trademarks of the play, while still strongly
maintaining the characteristics of the Yoruba deities. In doing so, this production emphasizes the
multicultural and multi-temporal relevance of these stories, themes, and archetypes, and invokes
a unity rather than a disparity across time and space.
The performance opens with ten silhouettes marching into the performance space in a
straight line, harmoniously and ritually singing Nina Simone’s “Take Me to the Water.” Each
carries an object—a few carry buckets, some carry crates, and others carry bags, all of which will
be transformed into the ensemble’s props and on stage seating during the course of the
performance—as he or she moves across the stage. When the silhouettes are in place, lining the
back of the stage and equidistant from one another in their stillness, four figures begin to move
towards the audience as the rest of the ensemble quiets their song into a gentle hum. The lights
come up on the four women situated in the foreground. The image is exactly what playwright
McCraney describes in his stage directions: “a pantheon of deities.”
The cast maintains its trance-like rituality throughout the prologue as Oya, the young
protagonist of the play, moves to sit down in front of the three other women. As she moans
several variations of, “Oya in the air… a breeze over Oya,” invoking the celebrated wind
goddess, the three women speak to one another and to the audience in rounds. They speak of the
“beautiful girl” who “didn’t even scream,” framing the story to come as a story that has been told
for years, positing it somewhere between myth and reality. With a beat, the deities of the
3
prologue transform into the characters we will get to know through the course of the
performance.
Though the story takes place in a contemporary African American community, each of
the characters is named after an orisha, or Yoruba deity. Orishas are considered to be
manifestations of God that represent different aspects of God, forces of nature, and the universe
viewed from different angles. Neither good nor evil, the orishas are not entirely divine in the
traditional sense of the word. They have human characteristics and stories, virtues and vices, and
are known to walk among us in different forms. In Yoruba ritual, an orisha is assigned to each
person at birth; these people, called the children of their respective orishas, are said to share the
characteristics of their particular deity. As one Yoruba proverb explains, “The character of the
person is the character of the orisha.” In the case of In the Red and Brown Water, this is also the
character on the stage.
Although this particular production does not focus on the ritualistic and cultural aspects
of West African Yoruba tradition, the actors of the University of Maryland production skillfully
depict contemporary versions of these complex, three-dimensional archetypes. The storyline of
the play is advertised as an adaptation of the mythical tales of Oya, orisha of the wind, and Oba,
orisha of fertility, but what is unique about this production is the ways in which the supporting
actors embody the detailed descriptions of the orishas even without the story centering on them.
While, to the untrained eye, these characters are merely modern-day African Americans, to those
who are familiar with the Yoruba cosmos, the characters on stage are unmistakably the children
of their namesake orishas.
Yemayà or Yemonja, the first orisha that McCraney was introduced to, is the first orisha
we see on stage. Affectionately called Mama Moja by the children and adolescents of the
4
community, this theatrical representation of the orisha of motherhood and the waters is the
protagonist Oya’s mother. In cosmology, Yemayà is said to be the mother of several orishas and
of human beings, and is often described as the archetype of the “Great Mother.” In her human
manifestations, she takes on all aspects of motherhood, ranging from the nurturing, sacrificial
parent, to the strict, stern parent who makes several demands of her children. Senior theatre
major Erica Philpot sheds her youth for the look of the wise old mother in the opening scenes of
the play. When she sees her daughter getting ready for her track meet, she demands that she stay
home, saying that she does not like her daughter coming home “all skin’t up from runnin’!”
Philpot builds a nostalgic chemistry between Moja and her daughter, adjusting Oya’s running
shorts and fixing her hair as the two laugh with one another. The young actress also takes on the
physicality of the ailing woman, slightly limping and occasionally stopping to catch her knee,
consistently embodying without fail the older woman she is playing.
As Oya quickly leaves for her race, we hear the loud voice of Lil Legba, yelling “Moja!”
Moja, having just sat down from the pain in her knee, angrily gets up to scold the boy for
“Screamin’ my name like that!” The little boy, played by the much older Christopher Lane,
sophomore theatre performance and psychology major, apologizes and happily says, “I come to
beg some candy or some money to get some,” holding out his hand and awaiting his gift. The
popular trickster figure of Yoruba cosmology, Elegba is perhaps the most difficult to define
among the pantheon, because he is characterized by his indefinability. The divine intermediary’s
primary role is to be the messenger between God and humanity, between the orisha and God,
and between human beings and the orishas. Because he governs the crossroads, he is often
simultaneously depicted as young and old, male and female, human and God. Known for his
mischief and trickery, he both reveals truth and destroys illusions.
5
Lane confidently takes on the difficult task of intricately weaving between the ambiguous
and paradoxical characterizations of Elegba, and effortlessly presents the complexities of the
orisha of the crossroads. In this first scene, Lil Legba asks Moja to help him interpret a “dream
with messages I can’t read yet,” and proceeds to be transported into a dreamscape where he, with
the assistance of the choreographed movement and orchestrated humming of the rest of the
ensemble, describes a divine prophecy: a vision of Oya laying on top of water, holding the side
of her head, and bleeding from between her legs. During the dream scene, a flood of dim, reddish
light colors the stage and the male ensemble members fluidly transition into a synchronized
interpretation of the dream through movement, as Lane’s voice goes from that of the innocent,
childlike Elegba, to that of the prophetic, divine messenger and orisha of divination. The dream
scene culminates and the lights return to full brightness, as the child Elegba describes the
wetness between his legs, giggling at the unfamiliar first stages of manhood. During the course
of the play, Elegba grows up, becomes a father, and comes to terms with his sexuality. Lane
plays the matured Elegba, but always maintains a sense of mischief and illusion throughout the
production, never forgetting that no matter how grown-up the character is, he is still the trickster
orisha.
Interestingly, in this particular play, there are in fact two characters that are children of
Elegba. The character of Aunt Elegua, takes the secondary name of the trickster orisha and is
portrayed as an older woman, diametrically opposed to, yet very similar to the young Elegba.
Played by sophomore cultural anthropology and theatre performance major, Sisi Reid, Aunt
Elegua still embodies characteristics of the playful, cunning, nosy orisha but does so in a
completely different way. Reid’s comedic talents are showcased by the confidence, with which
she takes on her character, who often flirtatiously asks the young men in her niece’s life, “Ever
6
been with an older woman?” and meddles incessantly in Oya’s romantic escapades. The young
actress approaches her interpretation of the character with a great amount of maturity—and a
necessary amount of immaturity—bringing out, like her fellow actor, Lane, the nuanced
peculiarities and ambiguities of the mischievous orisha.
Oya’s main love interest is the hyper-masculine character of Shango, an army man, who
disappears and reappears, but never leaves without spending some alone time with Oya. The
orisha of the thunderbolt and the dispenser of justice, Shango is the epitome of masculinity and
virility. Often symbolized by the tongue, Shango is also known for his confidence in speech and
is considered the patron orisha of politicians, lawyers, and other public speakers. David Samuel,
senior theatre performance major, makes his appearance as Shango when he visits Oya after her
triumphant race. In seeing Oya, the Yoruba ruler of the testicles “adjusts his dick,” “puts his leg
up,” and “licks his lips,” immediately sexualizing her and asserting his maleness. Samuel has a
distinct take on Shango, in that he does not express his masculinity through a deep voice or
through violence as one might imagine, but does so through his own confident voice. It is
perhaps also helpful that the young actor towers over the rest of the cast, something that
emphasizes the strong image of the lightning god.
Ogun, the orisha of iron and war is the second man in Oya’s life. When the young
runner’s mother passes away and her dreams of going to school are shattered, it is the shy,
stuttering Ogun that comes into her life, inviting her to live with him, so they can build a future
together. Junior theatre performance and communications major, Vaughn Midder successfully
faces the challenge of depicting Ogun Size, who begins the play stuttering, but slowly learns to
speak confidently during the course of the action. In his early scenes, Midder does not present a
caricaturized stutter, which could be a concern with playing this character, but plays the
7
character very authentically, reflecting what seem to be hours of study in the nuances of speech
impediments. Midder is not mechanical in his reproduction of the stutter either, but gives
emotion to every syllable spoken and unspoken in his monologues. The orisha is described as
simultaneously embodying violence and creativity, and is considered to be the soul of complete
integrity. Midder explores these facets of Ogun’s identity as an artist, poetically describing the
musicality of Oya’s running legs with an admiration that he convincingly struggles to express.
When he does finally work up the courage to express himself, his determination in his
professional and domestic spheres is unmistakable and Midder carries the orisha’s characteristics
throughout the play, even as he completely transforms his style of speech.
These supporting actors are joined on stage by several other ensemble actors, including,
Jenay McNeil, Collin Baker, Mavonte Johnson and Moriamo Akibo, each of whose characters
are integral to the movement of the plot and are largely based on other orishas. The lead actress,
Adriyah Young, who plays Oya, also takes on certain elements of the orisha of the wind and of
the storms, but while her characterization is undoubtedly compelling, she does not evoke the
strong warrior woman that is described in Yoruba cosmology, but plays instead a juvenile,
victimized, dependent young girl throughout the development of the play. Despite the
disappointments of the lead actress, however, the supporting actors gave so much life to the
orishas, mythical and theatrical, that their characterizations often outshined any other flaws in
the production.
The University of Maryland’s production of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s In the Red and
Brown Water presents a unique interpretation of this Yoruba-inspired play. In focusing largely
on the syncretic elements of Yoruba cosmology as an African American mythology rather than
as a West African mythology, the production places a great pressure on its young actors to
8
emphasize and make relevant their explorations of the orishas their characters are named after, a
challenge which many of the actors faced with great success. In many ways, this production is
similar to the first image that McCraney say of the goddess Yemayà: not entirely African and not
entirely American, but somewhere in between. This production, in its singular choices, forges a
hybrid mythology and makes the ancient stories of West Africa relevant to a young,
contemporary audience.
Works Referenced:
Curry, Mary C. "The Religious System." Making the Gods in New York: The Yoruba Religion in
the African American Community. New York: Garland, 1997. 45-98. Print.
McCraney, Tarell Alvin. In the Red and Brown Water. London: Faber and Faber, 2008. Print.
9