Woza!

Woza means rise up in Sotho. I learned that on a September Saturday when I went to see Woza Albert!, an extraordinary play from South Africa.

The play is about what happens when Jesus Christ chooses South Africa for his Second Coming. The white South African regime quickly tries to make propaganda from the Savior's appearance on South African soil. The regime's attempt to control the situation works about as well as the heretical theology it uses to justify its apartheid system. Morena, the Savior, identifies instead with the oppressed majority, and the lives of ordinary people are filled with hope.

The rich portrayals of these South African lives and their response to the coming of Morena form the heart of the play. I laughed, cried, and felt the tangible power that hope can bring to the circumstances of injustice and despair.

Woza Albert! was conceived, written, and is performed by two very gifted black South Africans, Percy Mtwa and Mbongeni Ngema. These two young men are the whole cast. I had known about the situation in South Africa before I walked into their play, but through their remarkable characterizations, I felt as if I had met a rich cross section of South Africa's people. How well these young actors know their country and their people, I thought to myself, but, even more, how beautifully their affection and commitment to the people they portray shine through.

The motivation of these creator/actors becomes more apparent when the play is ended and they stand to take their bows. Their expressions become very serious as they raise their fists in the symbolic expression of black determination and solidarity. As the audience stood to call them back out, there were no roses and polite smiles, only the determined faces of committed artists.

The final scene of the play was the most powerful to me. It ends the way all stories about Jesus Christ should—with a resurrection. The South African authorities have condemned Morena as an enemy of the state, imprisoned him, and finally killed him (ironically enough, with a nuclear weapon).

However, Morena is discovered alive a few days later by an astonished Zulu boy working in a black cemetery—"After three days I always rise again!"

Morena asks, "Is there anyone here named Lazarus?"

"No," replies the puzzled boy. But then his face lights up. "Do you want to raise some people up?"

"Yes," replies Morena.

"Oh, I know just who our people most want and need!" says the boy excitedly. What happens next made my heart leap.

The boy first leads Morena to the grave of Albert Luthuli—"the father of our country," he says reverently. Morena raises his arms and exclaims, "Woza Albert!" The Zulu boy falls to the ground in astonishment as the martyr comes forth. Then he jumps to his feet to greet the South African hero and hurries to lead Morena around the cemetery to the graves of other heroes and martyrs: Lilian Ngoyi, Robert Sobukwe, and others.

The boy describes each with great respect and pride and tells Morena what they mean to the oppressed masses of South Africa. "Woza Lilian!" "Woza Robert!" cries Morena. The Zulu boy welcomes each one with tears and great excitement.

"Here is Steve Biko," he says with great joy, "the hero of our young." I could feel my own excitement peaking. "Woza Steve!" commands Morena, and the great Biko rises and joins his elders. You feel the power of the resurrection anew, as the hope of South Africa comes alive again.

Woza means "rise up." That's exactly what happened to my spirits after seeing Woza Albert! As another member of Sojourners said, "It makes you believe again."

Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners magazine.