On September 21, Barber Shop Chronicles will premiere at Théâtre de Liège. Junior Mthombeni and Michael De Cock are taking on a “continental version” of the original by playwright Inua Ellams, which made a splash in the United Kingdom. In this interview, Ellams reveals how he came up with the idea for Barber Shop Chronicles and reflects on the significance of barber shops around the world.
How did the idea for this project come to you, so unique within the European theatre landscape?
"I had a friend who was studying public health here in the UK, and one day she showed me a flyer about a project where barbers and hairdressers were being trained in psychological first aid. This way, they could identify potential health problems in their clients and offer advice directly in their shops. I was quite surprised that barbers could do this work, and I wondered why there weren’t suitable people from the healthcare field to look after Black men. That’s really where the project began; I wanted to sit in a barber shop and sketch the portrait of men getting their hair cut. But I struggled to raise funds to write the play, and when the National Theatre asked me if I had any ideas for a new play, I mentioned my interest in barber shops and they awarded me a grant to give me time to work on it. Then I wanted to go further, do something bigger, and I travelled across Africa to meet men in barbershops, record their conversations, and I came back to London with almost 60 hours of recordings, which I turned into a 1h45 play. I worked a lot on it – I think I had fourteen drafts, including one version that lasted over 4 hours. I created characters, reused people I had met on my journey, brought them together, invented dialogues, and sometimes used actual lines I had recorded. There is a real mixture of fiction and non-fiction in the play."
Why was it important for you to combine elements of fiction and non-fiction? Was it precisely to give voice to stories that had long remained hidden?
"I don’t know… In the West, we often imagine the artist, the writer as a solitary genius, sitting in the dark, surrounded by his own knowledge, exploring the depths of memory and wisdom in order to create a work that he then shares vertically with us. In Africa, it’s a very different conception – it’s a much more communal process. Poets, writers, and storytellers are public servants. They serve the people by writing down their stories and later giving them back in written form. There’s this well-known joke about a storyteller performing in a village. He’s not very good, so the village takes the story back and retells it among themselves. They already knew the story – they were just waiting for him to make something different of it, something bigger, more exciting. But since he failed, they took it back… Or the story about a Chinese-American cellist who travels to Botswana. One day he stops in front of a group of elders and promises them a concert, saying he’ll return at 7 p.m. But they ask him: “You are here before us with your instrument. Why should we come back later to see you play? Why can’t you play now?” And as the man looks around, he notices all the farmers singing and working in the fields at the same time. In that community, there was no distinction between art and artist, between performance and performer. The concept of a concert didn’t even exist – at least not the way we think of it in the West. Art and artists, in Africa, belong to the people. I didn’t want to sit and invent things when I didn’t need to. Everything was already there; I could go out, find stories with these men, rework them slightly, and then give them back through performance. And that’s exactly what I did. Most of the names in the play are the real names of men I met. They didn’t want me to change their names because they valued the conversations they had with me. So I did it to honour them, but also to honour the tradition of how art and the artist function in continental Africa."
In your play, one can feel how much attachment the characters have to barber shops. Why are these places so important for communities of African origin in London and the UK?
"I think it’s not just a UK thing – it’s worldwide. It’s important because Europe is racist. Black men are seen as vicious, frightening. We are constantly under surveillance, we are stopped, harassed by the police. And the list goes on. You always have to put your best self forward as soon as you leave the few places where you feel safe, where you can just be yourself and relax. Barber shops are those places. No one judges you there for the colour of your skin. Spaces where men gather are often places of aggression – whether in a stadium, a gym, a racetrack, or a bar… And when Black men are in those spaces, they are often targets of racism, like footballers who still have bananas thrown at them today. But in a Black barber shop, that doesn’t happen; you’re accepted because you look like the others, like your father, your uncle, your brother… They don’t judge you. That’s why they’re safe spaces, because you can be yourself."
So barber shops are refuges, where you can speak openly about your problems without fearing judgment from a hostile society?
"Sometimes I talk about racism, sometimes about how my father disciplined me as a child, sometimes about poverty in the Nigerian community, about how people survive… But I often talk about survivor’s guilt, because I live here now, in the UK; I’m no longer there with them, and I’m doing better here. If I tell these things to someone who hasn’t had that experience, they might not even know how to understand me. They won’t be able to give advice, they won’t even know how to listen. But if I speak to someone who comes from my world, then everything is easier – speaking and listening. Of course, you don’t necessarily have to come from my world to understand me; you just need to take the time to study, to read. This is especially true in healthcare, if you are a doctor, a psychiatrist… I notice that many health professionals never even talk about us, about our culture… So they don’t know how to advise us, they don’t know the right things to say. It’s beyond their comfort zone, but above all beyond their experience. So I don’t go to them, because I know they wouldn’t understand me. I have to find people who do, until the system changes.
I will always feel nervous about ending up in one of those scenarios, so I avoid them. During the pandemic, we learned that doctors in the United States – today! – are still being taught that Black people have a higher tolerance for pain than white people! So when Black patients go to the doctor, they’re often told: “Yes, you’re sick, but it’s not that bad because you’re Black.” That’s what’s still being taught… What they learn about our bodies, when our bodies are practically identical… How could I trust them to open up my feelings? That’s why you end up seeking out environments where people look like you and will listen without judging you based on your skin colour."
Your play, which originally takes place in an Anglophone world (Lagos, Accra, London, etc.), will now be adapted to a Francophone setting, in cities still to be determined. London and Paris have often been rivals, but what are the big differences between countries like France and England on these issues?
"I may be wrong, but I think things are more advanced in the UK than in France. We have more non-white politicians. We’ve had a prime minister of Indian origin, and we have a language that has allowed us to articulate our differences and then reach out to invite more people to join us. I learned, for example, that in France the word for ghostwriter is nègre. In England, we have nothing like that – nothing suggesting that someone who is uncredited for their work should be associated with being Black. The word isn’t used as much anymore, and new terms have replaced it, but in some places it’s still in use… That alone shows how far behind France is on these questions. I don’t remember which French politician once said that colonised countries should thank France. Maybe it was 10 years ago, but even then, saying that would have been unthinkable in the UK. So yes, there is still a lot of work to do here, many bridges to build, but I think the UK is politically more aware of these issues, and socially more aware of the country’s diversity. We integrate this new language into our politics, and we talk about it much more than in France. That’s exactly why someone like Marine Le Pen could win the next election, whereas here in the UK, the far right only won a few seats and could disappear in a few years. It’s a crucial moment for France* – maybe the results will galvanise citizens, even if Le Pen wins, maybe it will trigger a shock and change the country in a positive way? I don’t know. But I definitely think the UK is ahead, and that’s why I believe a play like Barber Shop Chronicles could have an even bigger impact there than it had in London. With the rise of the far right in continental Europe, I feel this play is a good starting point to build something new together."
*This interview was conducted on Friday, July 5, 2024, just a few days before the second round of the French legislative elections.
Promo code for KVS visitors
Want to experience the show in Liège? With the promo code 25BBSKVS26, KVS visitors can attend for €23 instead of €32, valid for all performances except the premiere (23, 24, 25, 26 & 27 September).