“Aslama” Choreographed by Yaseen Manuel, assisted by Sifiso Khumalo. Photography by Val Adamson.

A cocktail of emotions felt in Unmute/Flatfoot collaborations

A review of ‘Aslama’ and ‘The Longitude of Silence’ by Sizwe Hlophe

Lauren Warnecke
JOMBA!/KHULUMA Blog
3 min readSep 7, 2018

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Last night (6 September 2018) witnessed Unmute Dance Company (CPT) in collaboration with the Flatfoot Dance Company exhibiting two astonishing pieces at the Elizabeth Sneddon Theatre on the JOMBA! Contemporary Dance Experience platform.

“Aslama” is a piece that is conceptualized and choreographed by Yaseen Manuel, assisted by Flatfoot’s Sifiso Khumalo. In this piece, the audience walks in to take their seats with a stage already loaded with meaning. Under a spot light, downstage right, a man (Manuel) wearing traditional Islamic clothes is seated on a black rectangular block with white Arabic writing on it. The man wore a white long white thawb (Islamic traditional garment) and a red keffiyeh(headdress). The shadow cast on the floor made it look as if he was putting his head into a noose which was hanging from the rafters every time he leaned backwards.

Occasionally, with both hands, Manuel gestured the number seven by raising his index finger and thumb, leaving the remaining fingers curled. By turning his index fingers on himself (one to his head and one below his ribcage) made it seem as if he was shooting himself. Seven white sheets hung from upstage left in front of a projection of a black and white video playing footage captured by drones of a war-stricken Syrian landscape, mixed with photography of some victims of this war. Amongst all this intense imagery was the Azaan (Islamic call to prayer).

The white thawbs and sheets paved symbolism for the “white building” that held former military members and where hangings were carried out in the basement. The red keffiyeh implied representation of the “red building” in which civilian detainees were held in the war. The recurring number seven was symbolic of the seven years of war in Syria. As the rest of the company carried each other on stage, it made it seem as if they were carrying the wounded who are too weak to walk. Sounds of gunshots and bullets ripping through the air, ricocheting and destroying the country reinforced a choreographed rebellion symbolized by gestured rock throwing, or getting wounded in the line of fire, immersing the audience into the Syrian war.

Late in the piece, when the performers washed each other’s hands, faces and feet with water it reminded me of Wudu (Islamic washing before prayer) but at the same time seemed as if they were cleaning their wounds or washing blood of their hands. “Aslma” evoked an overwhelming cocktail of emotions, and Manuel has done an outstanding job in the creation of this piece.

“The Longitude of Silence” a collaboration between Unmute Dance Company and Flatfoot Dance Company. Photography by Val Adamson.

‘The Longitude of Silence” choreographed by Lliane Loots (artistic director of the Flatfoot Dance Company) and Andile Vellem (artistic director of Unmute Dance Company) was created over 14 days in 14 rehearsals. Unmute Dance Company is an integrated company of artists with mixed abilities whose vision is to inspire the inclusion of “disabled” persons into mainstream society through dance performances, workshops and exchange programs.

Boxed with light center stage, Vellem opens with a solo in a style he adapted converting sign language into dance, accompanied by the live original compositions of violinist Fifi Olifant. Vellem leaves stage and the rest of the company (Manuel, Khumalo, Nadine Mckenzie, Lionel Ackermann, Jabu Siphika, Zinhle Nzama and Mthoko Mkwanazi) enter to perform in silence for an extended period of time. Olifant gestures as if playing a silent violin, raising the question of how would one respond to dance if they could not hear. Whilst moving in silence I had forgotten the need for sound, but was instead captivated by the well-executed and carefully considered choreography. When the music of the violin returned, it left one with the question of whether music influences dance, or the other way around.

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