Mariana Djelo Baldé | PERFORMANCE | GALA OTENTIK EXTRAVAGANZA 2025

MONTRÉAL – In a vibrant tribute to memory, beauty, and the resilience of African peoples, a modern-day storyteller delivered an enchanting performance before a gathered community, filled with laughter, music, and meditation. A tale woven with the delicacy of a braider’s fingers and the wisdom of a philosopher.

"Very, very long ago, a great Malian philosopher, Amadou Hampâté Bâ, said that storytelling is a mirror in which each person can see their own reflection."

Thus begins this performance, grounded in the idea that stories are not merely fiction, but bridges between past and future.

The scene opens with a ritual evocation: the kora, applause, communal invocations. Then the voice of the storyteller rises, invoking Miriam Makeba, born "Ouinzilé," whose first name itself recalls Zulu traditions where names reflect the circumstances of birth. A living memory enriched by seldom-told stories.

"I could speak to you of the Mossi, of the Fouta, of peoples without fixed origins because they come from everywhere... I could also tell you that, in times past, women wore their hairstyles like one wears an identity card."

Powerful words illustrating how African braids were once social, geographical, and emotional markers—they indicated one's region of origin, marital status, or even mourning periods. Then comes the pain: the transatlantic slave trade..

When enslavers tore thousands of men and women from their lands, the first thing they shaved off was their hair—a symbolic gesture, a brutal erasure of identity.

Yet resistance formed. In cotton fields, women hid rice grains in their braids to survive. We also learn that in Louisiana, a law—the Tignon Law—prohibited Black women from displaying their beauty. Too radiant. Too proud. Too present.

Nevertheless, heroines rise up. Kimpa Vita, prophetess of the Kongo kingdom; Abla Pokou, founder of the Baoulé people; Brenda Fassie, the protest voice of South Africa; and contemporary women such as Amina Gerba and Sylvie Gassama, who have become symbols of social and economic transformation.

The performance takes on a more theatrical and introspective tone in its second part. The audience becomes participants in a symbolic game: each holds a comb, looks another in the eyes, and shares a dream, as if initiating a braid.

Then comes the story of Na, a little girl of rare beauty whose hair grows so fast it becomes an object of mockery. Each braiding session turns into agony. All too often, beauty equates with suffering.

The braiders gather, tired of seeing children cry. "Why must we suffer to be beautiful?" asks Na. The answer is slow to come. But the question lingers, suspended—both painful and liberating.

As she braids, the narrator invites us to imagine that every stroke of the comb repairs an injustice, restores a people, reconciles a memory.

The gesture becomes sacred: combing, braiding, honoring.

The evening ends with a ritual inspired by Guinean tradition.

"Talio," says the storyteller—"It’s time for the story."

And the community replies: "Talaté"—Tell it.