By BRUCE DENNILL
Breakfast With Mugabe / Directed by Calvin Ratladi / Mannie Manim Theatre, Market Theatre, Newtown, Johannesburg
It would be wonderful if we lived in a world in which stories that examined the psyche of narcissists, dictators and politicians overflowing with hubris felt out of touch with reality. Sadly, this is not such a place or time. As such, English playwright Fraser Grace’s intense and intimate focus on a period (a version of which really happened, apparently) in the late Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe’s life still feels uncomfortably close to home – not only because Zimbabwe continues to try to recover from his autocratic legacy, but because other national leaders the world over are in the headlines daily for their own paranoia-fuelled actions.
Breakfast With Mugabe is a tight four-hander given scale by a striking set by Wilhelm Disbergen – a towering wall that communicates the stature of State House, in which the bulk of the action takes place, a square floor space with couches and chairs where the characters meet throughout the piece, and red sand and rocks all around these central structures, giving a sense of what is out beyond both the characters’ experience and their control.
Here, Robert Mugabe (Themba Ndaba) finds himself in a dark mental space, feeling like the ghost of a former comrade is tormenting him and unable to move forward through his preferred traditional methods. His wife Grace (Gontse Ntshegang) has her own agendas and while nominally supportive, she is not willing or, likely, able to fill the void in her husband’s psyche. Mugabe’s bodyguard Gabriel (Farai Chigudu) is a hulking physical presence, with the sense of menace hugely amplified by his dogmatic commitment to his boss. Into this intimidating context steps Dr Andrew Peric (Craig Jackson), a psychiatrist charged with treating Mugabe and his struggles, even as the latter makes it clear that he’d rather seek another path to wellness.
This is a play about power and how it drives, defines and validates all of the characters (and all the archetypes they represent). Ndaba’s Mugabe is arrogant, with a confidence borne of a complete and utter certainty that his way is the right way; his leadership without fault. He outranks everyone in the room and is happy to claim his authority, only stumbling slightly when the fear the malevolent spirit inspires is brought to the surface. Jackson’s Peric has licence to speak because of his considerable expertise and experience, and can, doctor to patient, lay down treatment conditions that Mugabe is theoretically obliged to adhere to. Grace has the privilege of her position as the first lady to hold over both Peric and Gabriel and her spousal influence over the President, even if their marriage is not traditionally warm and fuzzy. And Gabriel is all about physical power, violence in human form, only just restrained by the orders he is bound to follow.
The constant shifting (and shocking undermining) of this power throughout the narrative is what drives both the dialogue – plenty of it, particularly between Ndaba and Jackson, and almost all thought-provoking and forceful – and keen audience engagement.
All the performances are strong. If there is a weakness, it’s that the theme is necessarily limited, meaning a focus on politics that is unlikely to be to everyone’s taste, or within everyone’s scope of experience (South African and American politics are all over local news all the time; Zimbabwean and other countries take up relatively less bandwidth). Paying close attention will yield dividends, but even then, some of the terms and facts need to be taken at face value, which potentially reduces the level of emotional connection between audience, cast and characters.