Theater review

When art is born out of suffering, it presents messages about the disturbing contradictions of life. When it is born out of the specific suffering of children, it carries a message that can’t help but penetrate to the very center of our lives.

Such was the case last night as “Sarafina!” was performed before a full house at the Maine Center for the Arts. The message, mixed with the agony of apartheid and the glory of human resilience and hope, resounded in the deep, rich voices of young people and the complex rhythms of Mbaqanga, the music of South Africa.

For those who expected to encounter a traditional — or even semi-traditional — musical, the show may have been somewhat disorienting, particularly since the music is relentlessly energetic and full-bodied and every moment was filled with movement, song or story. The focus of this event was not plot, however, but theme, and thematically, the show was undaunted, clear visioned, exhilarating and irrepressible.

As a protest play, “Sarafina!” was a completely cohesive musical celebration. At its core stood a group of children who somehow had the strength to look out into an oppressive world and fight it without flinching.

The show, written and composed by Mgongeni Ngema with additional music by Hugh Masekela, followed the school children of the Morris Isaacson High School in Soweto, the site of the now famous 1976 uprisings. “Why do we have to learn about beautiful cities in England that have nothing to do with us?” asked one student after reading Wordsworth’s “Westminster Bridge.” So for an end-of-year play, the class decided to organize a concert about the day of Nelson Mandela’s freedom.

While we listened to them describe their lives under the policing eyes of the army, we also watched them explode with the energy of their youth and native traditions. These were young men and women who were not afraid to lift their legs in high kicks or raise their hands in fists of freedom or point their fingers at the wrongs that surrounded them. This dancing was not concerned with the structure of western glamour but rather with triumph. The movements were a stunning combination of simplicity, mathematics and outrage as performers waved their arms, scurried across the stage and stomped their feet in some of the nimblest moves ever performed on the Maine Center stage.

Many in the audience may have strained to understand the actors who spoke with heavy accents, and many of the songs were sung in Zulu, but there was no missing the general sense of this show. The sincerety, joy, anger and illumination of this ensemble would be unmistakable in any setting.

Their fight against prejudice, whether on their own doorsteps or in their determination to keep the spirits of their silenced heroes alive, spoke of the solidarity of a people who have looked evil straight in the eye and still have celebrated the glory of their singularly stunning selves.