A Most Unusual tune for “Song for Blood”
Collection Date and Location: 13 Afa'hena, i074. Araja-Musu, Milanka 8:991:OFG-2
LIBRARY CLASSIFICATION CODE: Restricted - Level 3 of 3.
Collection Note: Originally published in , an arts journal: Quickly removed.
For twenty-three years, I have been attending the glorious jewel of Milankan culture known as the fanas. I have seen everything from the great, large spectacles during the National Festival to the small, torchlight productions in tiny villages along the Bata Dooma. It is my life's work to document and understand the role of these performances in our society. For those unfamiliar with my work, I want to make clear my expertise in this subject—coming from a lifetime of research and experience—especially under the circumstances that I find myself writing this demand.
Rarely are there surprises in the current construction of our national pastime. We Milankans love our fanas to be traditional. Through this unique art form, created in the very arenas where our ancestors bled for the masses, we affirm who Milankans are and what Milankans believe. We find the archetypes of the Milankan character. The worker who toils for the good fall. The thinker whose brain makes their labor. The parent, whose wisdom is imparted. The lover whose passion guides them. And, of course, the gladiator who fights for all of Milanka.
This is especially true for classic works such as . The idea that the main character, Samele, could be anything but the idealistic young man we have celebrated for centuries is beyond comprehension for most patrons of the Grand Arena.
Regardless of what some of the form’s greatest artists may propose, the demands of the audience inform how fanas are created and presented. Every element—from the construction of the music, the representative violence of the gladiatorial pits, and the typical final gift of freedom from this corporeal world—is how we the people want it to be. This is not a challenge to the idea that artists have the right to explore and present ideas. It is a celebration of the truth that our people’s love of fana is what makes it such a beautiful and unique part of our culture.
I’m overstating this simple truth because I want to tell you just how important I found this year’s production of and how necessary it is to challenge the National Festival and its judges on the swift removal of Naafri1 Mara Klanda’s vision and the subsequent arrest. As the foremost authority on our national pastime, and of the National Festival in particular, I am also calling for the release of all twelve artists from Spider Island and the immediate reinstatement of this very fine—if not controversial—production.
The most obvious and ludicrous critique of this production is the backlash surrounding casting the fine performer Oya Walina Banda in the lead role. Why is it so shocking that she takes on this role? One reason is the absence of a deeper understanding of the gladiatorial era’s history. Those of us who learned our history under the current, woefully lacking educational system were not taught the truth. All-female events were a common sight in the fighting pits of antiquity, and it was also not unusual for exceptionally skilled women to fight alongside their male counterparts. This is known. This is fact. This should not be shocking. But we refuse to critique the “official” history. This is what caused the audible gasp of a thousand people in unison and the clutching of many glowfish stones in the arena a few hours ago.
Both within the fanas and in our larger construction of history, the great gender of Woman has had a substantial impact. To not celebrate this is faulty. To actively jeer at this celebration is reprehensible. That was what happened tonight. I witnessed the audience throwing rotten food at Walina Banda, one of the most outstanding performers of our time, and attempting to remove her from the sand. But in an unrivaled performance in the history of the festival, not only did Banda finish this production but delivered one of the finest versions of I have ever heard. She should be considered for this year's award for best performance, especially because she did so above the sea of condemnation that rose up against her.
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Another choice met with widespread disapproval was the production's aesthetic direction and Mara Klanda's vision. We Milankans are so used to the recreation of the violence of the arena in fanas. We replicate with shocking realism the once glorified fights we now deplore as barbaric and do so without question. Some of the most celebrated productions of have used actual human blood, and performers have purposefully wounded themselves so that they and the audience can attempt to experience the very real pain that our ancestors felt in the days of spectator combat.
It was an inspired choice by this team to theatricalize the arena’s brutality through traditional Milankan dance. To the trained eye, it was specific to the region of each gladiator. The great Yallo Sanga Malik’s2 wolf prance was a perfection of classical form during his fight with Samele.
Through this representation, Mara Klanda asks us, “Have we put the violence of our past behind us? Do we love the violence of the arena floor just as much as our ancestors?” She believes the answer to this question is yes. We love the violence. We revel in it. We demand it. Why else would the audience revolt for not getting their expected “Buckets of Red Gold”? If you find yourself disappointed in its absence, interrogate this question and see if you come to the same revelation.
The third issue brought forth is the construction of the music. Once again, the creative team behind this production challenges our expectations and perceptions. Mara Klanda and her musical director Sampacu Mamta3 did away with the usual orchestration, reducing the pit to a fraction of what is generally accepted, and chose only modern instruments, rejecting all traditional instrumentation and arrangements. This inspired decision reinforces questions that should be asked more often during the National Festival. Why here? Why now? What about this traditional story demands that it be retold to this audience at this moment? For this team, their answer is obvious. They believe we are different than those that came before. We have evolved. And yet in many ways, we are just as barbaric and just as violent as the history we pretend is behind us.
The last issue concerns the end of the production. I am unwilling to spoil Mara Klanda's insightful reimagining of this moment in the hopes that my request here will be honored, the production will be reinstated, and that you, dear reader, will have a chance to experience the surprise and unique vision of this classic.
But we all know the generally accepted ending and its meaning. To be Milankan is to sacrifice yourself for the good of Milanka, for the ideal that is the Milanka. But what does that truly mean? What value does this offer to those in our society who already give all they can to support the lives and comfort of those of us who live in luxury? Think about the rice farmer. The shepherd of the desert calves. The brick cooker. The street tender. Your mother. What more must they sacrifice? And for what reason? For this ideal that is Milanka? What has Milanka ever truly given them? I can think of little else than the pretense of safety all nations purport to those who are subjected to their stewardship. It is high time we challenge this idea, and there is no better avenue to do so than in our national pastime and no better venue for this conversation than that of the National Festival.
I implore my fellow citizens of Milanka, my fellow fana lovers, that we are better than the actions that took place in the Grand Arena. For many generations, we have rejected spilling the blood of our brethren for political disagreement or theological variations. We are not Verushans. We are not Zhidao. We are not Salasa. We are Milanka. And we cherish our discourse.
I demand the release of Mara Klanda and her collaborators. I call upon the National Festival to return this excellent rendition of to the competition and petition the judges to consider it for the National Award for Creative Excellence. Let us celebrate the provocation put before us, not dismiss it. That is, after all, the true nature of our art form, and the necessity that it brings into being. At its best, it challenges our assumptions so that we might see through them. And through this discourse, we continue the process of transformation and growth necessary to truly achieve the state of the sublime being.
1. is a Malinkan term for the master artists of the fana, used only for the select few considered among the greatest of their generation. Here, the Grand Bookmaster is calling for this term to be used for Mara Klanda in recognition of this production. It was quite a controversial move and caused even more unrest, especially during the riots that occurred during this year’s competition. They were largely spurned by this letter and the Grand Bookmaster’s actions in the streets, which caused his arrest, five-year imprisonment, and removal from the ranks of the Eternal Library. It was many decades later that his title was posthumously returned, and his work was reinstated.
2. Yallo is considered one of the greatest fana performers of his age. Sadly, this would be his last performance in the fanas, as he contracted the Mangra’s Vision after he was imprisoned for this production and never recovered. He died less than a few years after his release.
3. Sampacu Mamta came from extreme poverty and was one of the most radical and transformative musicians of his age. They left Milanka shortly after their release from imprisonment and resettled in Salasa, contributing significantly to the artistic movement known as the “Milankan Wave.”
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