On a humid evening in Dakar, an Irish jig echoes through the country\u2019s air-conditioned national theatre. The breathy, woody sound of the west African Fula flute brings a different cadence to the traditional tune. Actors dance across the stage, their peasant costumes stitched from African fabrics.<\/p>\n
The dialogue is in French, the playwright is Irish and the players are Senegalese. Set in 1833, Brian Friel\u2019s Translations \u2013 one of Ireland\u2019s most celebrated modern plays<\/a> \u2013 follows British soldiers sent to rural Donegal to translate Gaelic placenames into English.<\/p>\n The encounters between villagers and soldiers become a way to explore colonial power, language and identity. It is a story that resonated deeply with the cast in Senegal<\/a>.<\/p>\n \u201cI was really surprised to learn that Ireland<\/a>, a European country, had also experienced colonisation,\u201d says David Di\u00e9m\u00e9, who plays the Irish translator, Owen.<\/p>\n Staged by the Dakar-based theatre company Brrr Production in late September, the play\u2019s debut is being followed by a tour of schools and universities across the capital before opening to the public early next year.<\/p>\n I was really surprised to learn that Ireland, a European country, had also experienced colonisation<\/p>\n Since its 1980 premiere in Derry, Translations has been reimagined across the world, from apartheid South Africa to M\u0101ori and Ukrainian productions.<\/p>\n Its arrival in west Africa comes amid renewed debates over the former colonial power\u2019s sphere of influence, Fran\u00e7afrique, as the region\u2019s nations distance themselves from Paris.<\/p>\n David Di\u00e9m\u00e9, who plays Owen, lists Donegal placenames in a rehearsal of Translations. Photograph: Caitlin Kelly<\/p>\n Elected in April 2024 on a promise to defend \u201cthe integrity of the territory and national independence\u201d<\/a>, President Bassirou Diomaye Faye has since closed key military bases, joining Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger and Chad in expelling French troops.<\/p>\n \u201cThere have been changes recently felt almost throughout Africa,\u201d says Ass Niang, who plays Hugh, an Irish-language \u201chedge-school\u201d teacher in Donegal. \u201cIt\u2019s as if the play were written for today.\u201d<\/p>\n Colonial powers spent centuries competing for trade in Senegal before it became a French colony in the late 19th century. It gained independence in 1960, but the vestiges of colonialism linger.<\/p>\n They forced us to learn French when we were littleDavid Di\u00e9m\u00e9<\/p>\n Both Ireland and Senegal \u201cshare an Atlantic perspective \u2026 a post-colonial experience,\u201d says Shane Keenan, charg\u00e9 d\u2019affaires at the Irish embassy in Dakar. \u201cAnd in particular both have a significant experience of outward migration.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a study of the nuances and intricacies of the relationships between the local and the outside.\u201d<\/p>\n Friel\u2019s dramatic conceit means the original play is in English, though the Irish villagers are meant to be speaking their own language.<\/p>\n El Hadji Abdoulaye Sall, a professor of theatre at Dakar\u2019s Cheikh Anta Diop University, relates this struggle to Senegal\u2019s own linguistic history.<\/p>\n B\u00e9reng\u00e8re Brooks, the director, takes notes during a rehearsal. Photograph: Caitlin Kelly<\/p>\n Explaining how French was \u201ca language of prestige\u201d, the professor says: \u201cFirst, [it] was colonial, reserved for a small elite; the official language, the language of administration \u2026 but the real linguistic identity of the country remains Wolof.\u201d<\/p>\n Using the French translation, the language is rich with 19th-century idioms and agricultural terms, says Brrr Production\u2019s French-born director, B\u00e9reng\u00e8re Brooks.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought the French would be too difficult. But they worked for a month, four sessions a week,\u201d she says proudly.<\/p>\n With Wolof being the first language for most people in Senegal, some cast members did not study French beyond primary school.<\/p>\n skip past newsletter promotion<\/a><\/p>\n Sign up to Global Dispatch<\/p>\n Get a different world view with a roundup of the best news, features and pictures, curated by our global development team<\/p>\n Privacy Notice: Newsletters may contain information about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. If you do not have an account, we will create a guest account for you on theguardian.com<\/a> to send you this newsletter. You can complete full registration at any time. For more information about how we use your data see our Privacy Policy<\/a>. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy<\/a> and Terms of Service<\/a> apply.<\/p>\n after newsletter promotion<\/p>\n \u201cThey forced us to learn French when we were little. We weren\u2019t even allowed to speak Wolof or Diola in class or in the schoolyard,\u201d says Di\u00e9m\u00e9.<\/p>\n In Act II, over bottles of the home-brewed Irish spirit poit\u00edn, Owen and Lt Yolland pore over a map and discuss the anglicisation of Irish names. The parallels with Senegal struck many cast members, many of whom grew up on streets still bearing colonial names. French colonial authorities renamed Ndakaaru to Dakar in 1857.<\/p>\n Adama Diatta, a Senegalese activist, campaigns to change street names in Dakar as part of a drive to \u201cdecolonise\u201d and untangle Senegal from its \u201cforced marriage\u201d to France<\/a>.<\/p>\n Lt Yolland (Birame Diouf) drinks the Irish spirit poit\u00edn as he discusses how to anglicise placenames in Donegal with Owen (David Di\u00e9m\u00e9, right). Photograph: Caitlin Kelly<\/p>\n He recalls a bridge in Saint-Louis \u2013 the capital of French colonial Senegal for more than 200 years \u2013 named after Louis Faidherbe, a 19th-century French governor who led brutal military campaigns in the region<\/a>. <\/p>\n \u201cIf we really explained to people who this man was and what he did \u2026 do you think anyone would accept that a single brick of a building bears his name?\u201d Diatta says.<\/p>\n Is west Africa all that far from the west of Ireland?Breand\u00e1n Mac Suibhne<\/p>\n The love between Yolland \u2013 a British soldier who believes he could love Ireland \u2013 and M\u00e1ire, an Irish girl eager to learn English and emigrate, embodies the tangled loyalties that linger after colonial rule.<\/p>\n