Tabernacl Church, The Hayes, Cardiff
Sat 24 Mar
****
Next year marks the centenary of an incident that many Cardiffians have no knowledge of. A blot on the city’s reputation as a place of peaceful refuge and diversity. In June of 1919, race riots involving thousands ignited the capital. What happened during those four scorching days is the subject of Storm.2: Things Come Apart (from a six-production series called The Storm Cycle), conceived, designed and directed by Mike Pearson and Mike Brookes and created for National Theatre Wales.
At the time, migrants, already employed in Britain’s port cities, replaced many enlisted soldiers in the workforce during World War I. Afterwards, there was massive social upheaval as returning veterans were confronted with housing and job shortages on a widespread scale, with much resentment building up, alongside fears about miscegenation.
Co-creators (and collaborators for 20+ years) Pearson and Brookes have put together a thought-provoking, revealing piece shown at this chapel, where the long-ago disturbances happened right on the doorstep. This ‘heritage reconstruction.’ was the result of a year-long research project between the two, as they opted used local period newspaper reports (transcribed from Cardiff Heritage Library microfiche) together to form the verbatim, unabridged text spoken by actors Ali Goolyad, Aisling Groves-McKeown and John Rowley.
They brought to life the people and images of this violent, racially-charged event. As they walked around the room reciting and staring onlookers square in the eye, they imbued the words with fervor and reality, making you feel as if you were there in the terrifying thick of it. To assist transporting us were archival images and photos of locations and of some of those who were there (including mug shots) placed on tables imprinted with old street maps. The addition/moving around of these materials during the action reminded of a war operations room with plotting tables. At times, Keep the Home-Fires Burning and other songs of the day were softly played by pianist John Hardy in the background.
The evocative performers raced us through the streets – much of the action taking place at the intersection of Bute Terrace, Custom House and Bute Streets – where West African, Caribbean, Arab and Somali seamen and other workers were set upon. That some of these men served in the war effort for Britain made little difference. In front of The Golden Cross pub, on The Hayes and the spots where John Lewis and Callaghan Square are now (and surrounding areas) there where angry shouts of “Lynch him!,” “Come on boys, let’s get them n*****s out!,” and “Kill the blacks!” rang out. The bigotry of the police, too, was exposed, and it appears as though they had a hand in some beatings, but this was never concretely proven. One dearly wishes to hear from the preyed-upon but that wouldn’t do.
We hear how white gangs that included Australian soldiers waiting to be de-mobbed went on ‘Negro hunting’ rampages, attacking not only with their fists but also with knives, broken furniture, axes, and rifles. Even women and girls joined in. Shops, restaurants, private dwellings and other properties were vandalized and burnt. Many were sent to hospital with serious injuries. Mahomed Abdullah, 21, a Yemeni native who had served on British ships as a fireman, was murdered, his skull fractured. Two white ex-soldiers, Harold Smart and John Donovan were also killed.
One can see the reasoning behind this reconstruction as opposed to a stage production with a non-verbatim script taking artistic license. All ground was covered as were many of the fast-moving, graphic incidents using reporter’s stories. This would have been impossible to do on a small stage. Of course, you don’t get the emotional connection as if the actors were portraying the victims. That Pearson/Brookes deliberately had the dialogue overlapping at points to show the confusion and chaos going on sounded good in theory, but in practice made it difficult to follow everything. And that was the point. Credit to them for bringing to light this forgotten passage of shameful history.
words RHONDA LEE REALI
photo MARK DOUET / NATIONAL THEATRE WALES