Beneath the Baobab: Seeds of Sankofa at The Tank

A Collage of Reclaimed Stories

Beneath the Baobab: Seeds of Sankofa at The Tank is a four-act celebration of Africa’s heritage and defiance. As I entered the building, I realized that, aside from rehearsals, I had never actually witnessed a show at The Tank. We made our way to the theater through narrow corridors and squeaky staircases—downtown theater at its finest. I loved it.

As I sat down, a projector displayed dynamic images of dancers, singers, performers, and artists—diverse, vibrant, colorful. At the edge of the stage, an older man sat watching the projections as though they were his late-night television ritual. He exuded calmness, yet readiness. I soon noticed the percussive instrument resting between his legs. My heart slowly filled with anticipation. I knew I was in for a ride.

As the drummer began to play, two elegant dancers emerged from the wings. Call and response, bare feet stomping the ground, organic isolations, flowing red fabric, and bright smiles filled the space in a heartbeat. What stood out most to me was the smile of Taiwo Aloba, curator of Beneath the Baobab: Seeds of Sankofa. Her smile radiated life. I felt her joy and love for performing, and that same joy—rooted in expressing culture, identity, and heritage—was present in all the performers and in their detailed, personal, and vulnerable stories.

Act One, Jaja of Opobo, told the story of King Jaja’s resistance against colonial forces. Performed by Taiwo Aloba in collaboration with African Theater Troupe, the script was skillfully written, showcasing the nuanced opposition between two worldviews: Jaja, deeply connected to nature, his people, and balance, versus European colonists who spoke the language of force, malleability, and ego. While the contrast was clear in the text, I wished it had been echoed more strongly in the actors’ movement, voice work, physicality, and spatial relationships—particularly in how they engaged with props and scene partners. That said, as a theater artist myself, I am keenly aware of the limitations of rehearsal time and resources. One can only craft so much. I hope this act finds another life and that the artists continue exploring what more this story has to offer.

Act Two took me by surprise. Three percussive musicians entered with festive, celebratory reverberations in Sound of Whirlwind, an eruption of Congo’s rhythms performed by Jean Loubaki and their troupe. They reminded me why I love theater and why it can never cease to exist: we crave work that is alive—work built on active listening and response, work that is different every time, not reproducible, not a product, but a living, breathing experience.

The drummers were deeply attuned to one another, closely observing and responding to what their fellow musicians offered. One would step out to riff off the music, the audience, and the space, while the others maintained the base rhythm. They struck their instruments with hands, fingertips, elbows (I think?), all while moving side to side, stepping, turning, spinning, clapping, and dancing—while playing these gigantic percussive instruments. Wow. Once again, call and response served as a driving force, paired with infectious smiles and visible joy. It was a reminder of why we create theater in the first place: to play, to listen, and to respond to the energy around us. Thank you to Sound of Whirlwind for that reminder.

Act Three caught my attention even before it officially began. As performers transitioned and moved set pieces, the next artist walked as if trying not to wake a sleeping baby—tiptoeing, slow and careful. I wondered why. When the lights came up, it became clear. With beautiful instruments around his ankles and a microphone in hand, PitsiRa YaMabala began Son of the Soil of Alkebulan. His commitment was admirable. He inspired me with his joy, presence, and indulgence. He was there to create and share his music in his own way.

With images of Africa and himself projected behind him, YaMabala sang both a cappella and alongside what seemed to be recorded tracks of his own music. The piece felt homemade—a collage of photographs, recordings, impressive dance, audience participation, and live sound. At times, the collage felt dissonant, even absurd, sparking moments of humor. I wasn’t always sure if that was intentional, but I enjoyed it regardless. YaMabala radiated the love and passion of original artistry.

The final act, Mother Tongue, created by Beninois poet Justin Lokossou, was deeply impactful. I was immediately intrigued by his use of space: on one side of the stage, a bench where he primarily resided; on the other, a bench and table set with food, occupied by an elderly woman magnificently dressed in purple. The performers crossed between these spaces, which came to resemble two households.

Justin crossed first to sit and eat with the woman, who we soon learned was his mother. As they ate, a recorded interview played—Justin asking his mother questions about their culture and immigration story. Behind them, photographs of his family and a map tracing their origins appeared. Justin then returned to his bench and donned a mask made of mirror-like material as a spoken-word recording of his voice began. He physicalized the words through movement, and the anonymity—paired with the reflective surface of the mask—evoked how immigration stories are often reduced to numbers, nationalities, or cases, stripped of humanity. Yet these stories are people.

Justin showed me a space where art, storytelling, and lived experience converge, where the simple yet vulnerable truth speaks the loudest. Thank you, Justin, for showing the power of vulnerability and ownership of one’s story.

The act concluded with Justin and his mother seated together, reading a poem in English. With a beautiful accent and her son’s gentle support, she read at her own pace—linguistically reclaiming silenced histories. Tears streamed down my face. Goosebumps.

Overall, Beneath the Baobab: Seeds of Sankofa showcased Africa’s boldness and brilliance. It reminded me to return to my own stories, my own joy, and my love for creating in community—and of how art, at its best, has the power to change the world.

December 12, 2025
Performance: Thursday, December 11 at 8:30 PM
Curated by Taiwo Aloba

Featuring JAJA of OPOBO by Taiwo Aloba & African Theater Troupe; Makinu Ma Kongo by Andoche Loubaki & the Mfouambila Kongo Dance Company; Son of the Soil of Alkebulan by PitsiRa YaMabala; and Mother Tongue by Justin Lokossou
Runtime: 70 minutes