My journey with Obele And The Storyteller ..pt 1

Every new project has its peculiar demands and blessings. This is the first thing I discovered in Portharcourt as we began our month long rehearsal of Obele and The Storyteller the drama presentation for the Opening ceremony of the UNESCO Portharcourt World Book Capital 2014.
First of was the mystery.
As of the time we left Lagos, I didn't know anything about the story, my character in the play, all I knew for a fact was that I'll "perform"in the play. My interest was piqued of course-sly people, they probably knew that would be the case-
On the day before departure, I met some of the cast members at the Lagos office. There appeared to be two polarising temperamental 'formings': there were the very crazy body biting me cannot sit in one place and definitely cannot be quiet in the right corner and the oh please i'm a diva and I only open my mouth after you pay at the left corner. Now, going by the little experience I've garnered about artists(they are the most volatile Homo sapiens I've met so far) two situations were likely to unfold from this creative ensemble, one of which would be that these two boxes will mix and the line separating them would become faint or the lines could become deeply etched and clearer resulting in two or more political parties.
Let the games begin.......

As we got to the untarred International arrivals of Portharcourt airport, while waiting for our luggage to be brought around by the human conveyor belt the mixing began in earnest. I tried to size up the director whom I thought had engineered the first communion service of plantain chips with well, nothing that we had on board and figure out those who had brought their houses along in their luggage. My new Namibian friend(who was not yet a friend as of then but whom I had forced to become a photographer at the Lagos airport-Margaret Shikuyele) was a semi culprit. I asked her if she was coming from omugwo, I don't think she understood or heard as she seemed to permanently have ear piece on. There was the other opposite too. The incredible dance choreographer Uche Onah who carried a light backpack that I couldn't help but wonder if he had just dancers tights in it. There couldn't possibly be anything else in there. How was he going to survive one month with whatever was in that tiny backpack? In retrospect now, I shake my head at myself for 'swallowing panadol for headache wey another person no even get sef' .
We got into the bus and someone asked for my Bluetooth name in order to exchange pictures, when I told him, people laughed. I didn't get the joke or was there something else in the air that was making them high? Anyway, we were all very excited . Like we used to say in National youth service camp "Morale was high"and we couldn't wait to get the show on the road...