According to the experts, a human can go without food for as much as three weeks, but will usually die after only three or at most six days without water.
But what if those essential lifegiving properties are delivered along with a toxic level of lead, courtesy of inadequate water treatment methods and officials who can’t concern themselves with the problem even as the complaints mount about the discolored, bad-smelling water pouring into homes? Not to mention the physical maladies that soon arise.
cullud wattah, a two-act by playwright Erika Dickerson-Despenza, takes place over six days in the lives of three generations of women — a grandmother, two daughters and two granddaughters — whose existence in Flint, Michigan is circumscribed by the awful water trickling into their homes when the taps are turned on.
Layoffs surround Marion, a third-generation General Motors employee. Her sister, Ainee, wants restitution for the medical damage done by injesting lead-tainted water.
Dickerson-Despenza who won the Susan Smith Blackburn Prize for this play in 2021, tells her story using elements of Afro-surrealism. Time is a fluid entity, the now is also the past and the future, all happening in some sense at once as mistakes of the past are present and continuing.
Her award-winning play is about to be unveiled at Stages in the arena theater at The Gordy. Artistic Director Kenn McLaughlin said he first fell in love with the script, a feeling that was reinforced after seeing it on stage. “The play at times it feels like a very traditional kind of play and then suddenly you recognize it’s not. It disrupts form in surprising ways.”
Asked what the play is about, McLaughlin said: “The eternal nature of water. The tragic criminality of Flint, Michigan. And the majesty of family and the tragedy of oppression.”
“They have to manage their water usage. They do it through bottles; they do it through jugs. You become very aware of the presence of liquid and the presence of water and the scarcity of that. The scale of the tragedy that we as Americans have still have an ongoing crisis of water in one of our cities, who’s even talking about it?”
“The access to water, we take it as such a given, it’s horrific to think that it isn’t.”
“The access to water, we take it as such a given, it’s horrific to think that it isn’t.”
McLaughlin said he began a year and a half ago by talking with director Rachel Hemphill Dickson about this play. “Who did we need in the room? What kind of support to bring it forward?” Clearly the family had to be played by African-American women.
And he really meant it about support. He and Dickson brought in local poet and playwright Jasminne Mendez and Yoruba consultant Tene Carter because the Yoruba tradition is part of the play. The team was put together to support the fullness of the story, McLaughlin said. As for Dickson: “I knew I did not did not know enough to support the speaking of the Yoruba language, the ritual that goes with it. And because the piece has a poetry piece that is its own art. we also have on our team a poetress.” In addition, they brought in choreographer who’s studied Yoruban dance.
Dickson had already read cullud wattah before McLaughlin approached her and didn’t hesitate to get on board. “Always eager to work with Stages. Excited by a cast of all African-American women, written by an African-American woman. Excited to have a team that’s mostly African-American artists. And the play itself — I always appreciate a well-written story about actual events. Why do fiction, when real life is just as interesting or often more devastating like this story?”
The play also appealed to her because, she said, “It has intricate relationships and the idea of puzzle-making, This piece has a spiritual element to it that’s about your relationship to spirits around so how do we communicate that?”
Despite this play centering on Flint, Michigan’s devastating water troubles, the premise is universal, Dickson said.
“It could be our water tomorrow. Particularly because we know the infrastructure of most places in the country are 40-50 if not more years old so the corrosion of pipes is something that’s very real. And the building, we keep building upon building upon building and adding more and more and what pressure that does to the system that supports us.
‘That’s one of the things about the Yoruban culture. It says “‘What has been is now and is what will be all at the same time. That history is really what’s happening now and what will be happening for years to come.
“And then even if you don’t know the water world, in this play it’s universal because the relationships are real. We all know mom we all know grandma, we all know sister we all know aunt and then the emotions that these women go through are humanistic.
“There’s no way that folks won’t understand topically dealing with authority, dealing with parents, dealing with decision making, dealing with spirituality, dealing with finding a job, dealing with being laid off, dealing with how to pay the bills, dealing with a mom whose hurt, dealing with being pregnant, dealing with miscarriages or the decisions we make to have a baby, dealing with drug abuse.”
Dickson said that silence is also an important part of this play, one she wants prospective audience members to understand, as well as realizing that this is a play that requires your attention.
“You have to be willing to be present. That it is not a piece for you to come and just watch a play. And if you’re willing to think about relationships on a micro level and the impacts our country has on people’s lives on a macro level then you will enjoy the journey.
“There’s a layer of full reality and there’s a layer of Afro-surreal as the playwright calls it. Afro-surrealism is a real component in this play and it’s valuable because it gives us an opportunity to release and explore, it gives us an opportunity to call on our ancestors and think about our contribution to our future and talk to the children who are to come. And that’s important that everybody does it whether we know we do it or not. And so it’s a wonderful opportunity in this play to think about what was I left, what am I giving now, what will be to come that I had a seed in planting.”
Performances are scheduled for February 10 through March 31 at 7 p.m. or 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays through Saturdays so check the Stages website for the times and 2 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays. At The Gordy, 800 Rosine. For more information, call 713-527-0123 or visit stageshouston.com. $50 – $84.
This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2023.
