In the 1980s, supermarkets stocked a fruit juice named ‘Um Bongo’ with the strapline ‘They drink it in the Congo!’. This is the starting point for Adam Brace’s examination of Britain’s relationship with the Congolese (whose word ‘mbongo’ means money).
A group of do-gooding Londoners host a festival to celebrate the Congo’s culture and history but they rapidly become mired in controversies about age-old injustices and white-to-black ratios on steering committees. The Congolese party includes a few rogue terrorists whose death threats the British publicists find rather glamorous and titillating. The characters rarely reach beyond the obvious. The Londoners are bloodless yuppie go-getters. The Congolese are suspicious, chippy and mistrustful. Early on, they gang up on a female charity worker and demand to know how much she will earn for acting as their hostess. Foolishly she tells them the truth and they howl at her in artificial outrage. The festival soon develops into a tawdry and predictable trade-off. It’s less a celebration of culture than a stick-up job with African scroungers frisking European dimwits for a portion of what both sides refer to as ‘guilt money’.
Brace has given his play a cumbersome and overcrowded design. There are 13 actors playing 27 roles, helped by an on-stage musical ensemble who perform Morrissey hits with ‘ironic’ rainforest rhythms. Occasionally we hop over to the jungle for a spot of murder and child-rape to vary the mood. The play mentions two crucial points only in passing. First, a weekend of poetry and bongo-bashing is unlikely to cure the ills of a central African basket case. Secondly, Britain’s involvement in the Congo is non-existent. The first settlers were Portuguese and they handed over to the Belgians, who turned their acquisition into one of the most brutal slave states in colonial history.