PENGUIN - AT THE JUNCTION
‘A penguin can’t fly. But it can swim – and dance’. Disabled Syrian refugee Hamzeh Al Hussien cruelly nicknamed ‘Penguin’ (because of his short and twisted legs) by other kids tells his own experience of displacement, loss but indomitable human spirit. The one-man show covers the totally true but extraordinary story of his journey from war-torn Syria under the brutal Assad, to a camp in Jordan where he and his brother and mother lived for six years. There he learnt physical theatre techniques and was comically mistaken for a translator (he hardly knew any of the languages he was supposed to translate).
His eventual destination was Gateshead in England as part of the refugee resettlement programme.
If any of this sounds morbid or self-pitying – nothing can be further from theatrical reality. The 65-minute show radiated with the actor’s warmth and infectious humour. There was no fourth wall there at Junction 2. Audience members were invited to smell his basket of Syrian lemons and play marbles with the childhood Hamzeh. Told in a non-linear way, the brushstrokes of his life were delicate, complex, and footloose. He took us back to his childhood – stealing citrus fruits with his older brother Waseem, dancing in his mountain village before the troubles, sheltering under the wings of his angelic mother as the tanks rolled in. Then in pointillist dots of memory, we were at a night club in Geordieland, hiding in a cave in Syria, fearing for his life at a military checkpoint.
Each episode in his life was punctuated with Arabic and western music (a truly beautiful soundscape by Hamza Arnout) and the often-dreamlike quality of his memories captured in a kind of twisting slo-mo dance. I loved the way he brought in the audience to be his childhood friends. There were moments of laughter but also deeply moving honesty. The athletic Hamzeh bounded around the stage, putting costumes on and off with slippery ease belying any thoughts that his disability held him back. This was physical theatre at it most powerful.
Director Amy Golding kept the pace buzzing but never frenetic. There was a very fresh idea of having surtitles in both English and Arabic and the recorded voices of Hamzeh’s brother, his aid workers and others provided beautifully layered dialogue. Near the end, Hamzeh updated us on his mother’s life still (then) in a camp in Jordan. At the centre of this fine piece of theatre, was the magnetic charisma of Hamzeh Hussein, the distillation of an optimistic life force. Here’s a man who dances, sings and celebrates life. Not a penguin but a golden eagle!
PHOTO CREDIT - CHRIS BISHOP
