You Are African First Before Anything. Omnibus Theatre.

Ophelia Charlesworth’s semi-autobiographical one-woman show You Are African First Before Anything explores the intricacies of the difficult bond between a deeply conservative first generation Nigerian mother and her UK-raised eldest daughter, Chile. It offers a thought-provoking meditation on the abiding power of love in black families, and the extent to which family abuse is a culture-bound construct.

Chile’s mother is certainly, from one point of view, genuinely abusive to her mid-twenties daughter. She pokes her awake at 4am with a caustic “big madam wakes up”, partly to hector her into marriage and partly to hand out today’s list of chores. She threatens to disown her child should she dare take up a job in the arts, rather than law. She labels Chile ‘akwụna’ (the Igbo word for prostitute) when the girl chooses, quite innocently, to have her boyfriend stay over during lockdown.

Worst of all, Chile’s suggestion she might not want kids merits an almost unbelievably brutal response from mum, “stop this feminism nonsense” she demands, “if you decide not to have children, I’ll find someone to rape you”.  The sighs of recognition from the diverse South London audience suggest Chile’s experiences in a conservative African family are neither unique nor unfamiliar.

Despite all this, Chile loves her mum to bits. In You Are African First Before Anything Charlesworth is determined we understand why. Being the eldest daughter is a revered and respected position in Nigeria; a failure to marry brings shame to both parents and siblings. Chile’s success is the family’s shared success, and so parents and wider diaspora have a legitimate interest in their offspring’s choice of career. Chile’s master’s in law and in-demand graduate job, though unsatisfying and unchosen, offer respite from endemic workplace racism.

Conflict between Chile and her mother comes to a head when her much loved father dies. Paternal grandparents in Nigeria demand a traditional show of respect, one that includes 28 days of near solitary grief and the forced shaving of hair. Mum goes along with a series of mourning rituals that appear both arcane and brutal. Will Chile do likewise?

Charlesworth is a fine actor who shifts between mother and daughter’s monologues with consummate ease. Director Luka Cvitkovic adds pace to proceedings with a cleverly constructed soundscape: recordings of unseen family, song, and the Nigerian rural hinterland. Chile’s final plea for respect and understanding from her mother, in the form of a beautifully performed gospel-style ballad, is a highlight.

Writer: Ophelia Charlesworth

Director: Luka Cvitkovic