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“Discussing about the legendary singer in the nation, it’s like speaking about a queen,” explains the choreographer. Referred to as Mama Africa, Makeba additionally associated in Greenwich Village with renowned musicians like Miles Davis and Duke Ellington. Starting as a young person sent to work to support her family in Johannesburg, she later served as an envoy for the nation, then Guinea’s representative to the United Nations. An outspoken campaigner against segregation, she was married to a Black Panther. This remarkable story and impact inspire the choreographer’s latest work, Mimi’s Shebeen, scheduled for its British debut.

A Blend of Movement, Sound, and Narration

Mimi’s Shebeen combines movement, instrumental performances, and spoken word in a stage work that isn’t a simple biography but utilizes Makeba’s history, especially her story of exile: after moving to the city in the year, she was prohibited from her homeland for 30 years due to her opposition to segregation. Later, she was banned from the United States after wedding Black Panther activist Stokely Carmichael. The performance is like a ritual of remembrance, a deconstructed funeral – part eulogy, part celebration, some challenge – with the exceptional vocalist Tutu Puoane at the centre bringing her music to dynamic existence.

Power and poise … the production.

In South Africa, a informal gathering spot is an under-the-radar gathering place for locally made drinks and lively conversation, often managed by a host. Her parent Christina was a shebeen queen who was arrested for producing drinks without permission when Makeba was a newborn. Incapable of covering the fine, Christina was incarcerated for six months, taking her infant with her, which is how Miriam’s eventful life began – just one of the things Seutin learned when researching Makeba’s life. “Numerous tales!” says Seutin, when we meet in Brussels after a show. Her parent is from Belgium and she mainly grew up there before relocating to learn and labor in the United Kingdom, where she established her company the ensemble. Her South African mother would perform her music, such as the tunes, when Seutin was a youngster, and dance to them in the living room.

Melodies of liberation … the artist performs at Wembley Stadium in 1988.

A ten years back, her parent had the illness and was in medical care in London. “I stopped working for three months to take care of her and she was always requesting Miriam Makeba. It delighted her when we were singing together,” Seutin recalls. “There was ample time to kill at the hospital so I started researching.” In addition to reading about her victorious homecoming to the nation in 1990, after the release of Nelson Mandela (whom she had met when he was a legal professional in the 1950s), Seutin discovered that Makeba had been a someone who overcame illness in her teens, that Makeba’s daughter Bongi died in childbirth in 1985, and that because of her banishment she could not be present at her parent’s funeral. “You see people and you focus on their achievements and you overlook that they are facing challenges like everyone,” says Seutin.

Development and Concepts

All these thoughts went into the making of the show (premiered in the city in the year). Fortunately, her parent’s therapy was successful, but the concept for the work was to celebrate “death, life and mourning”. In this context, Seutin highlights elements of her life story like memories, and references more generally to the theme of uprooting and loss nowadays. While it’s not overt in the performance, she had in mind a additional character, a modern-day Miriam who is a traveler. “And we gather as these other selves of characters connected to Miriam Makeba to greet this newcomer.”

Melodies of banishment … musicians in the show.

In the show, rather than being inebriated by the shebeen’s local drink, the skilled dancers appear taken over by beat, in harmony with the musicians on stage. Seutin’s choreography includes various forms of dance she has absorbed over the time, including from Rwanda, South Africa and Senegal, plus the global performers’ own vocabularies, including street styles like krump.

A celebration of resilience … Alesandra Seutin.

Seutin was taken aback to find that some of the younger, non-South Africans in the group didn’t already know about the singer. (She passed away in 2008 after having a cardiac event on the platform in Italy.) Why should new audiences learn about the legend? “In my view she would inspire the youth to advocate what they believe in, expressing honesty,” says Seutin. “However she accomplished this very gracefully. She expressed something poignant and then sing a beautiful song.” Seutin wanted to take the same approach in this work. “We see dancing and hear melodies, an element of entertainment, but mixed with strong messages and instances that resonate. This is what I admire about her. Because if you are being overly loud, people won’t listen. They retreat. Yet she did it in a way that you would accept it, and hear it, but still be blessed by her ability.”

• The performance is at the city, the dates