May Sumbwanyambe was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, a year after his parents immigrated to the UK from Zambia. Despite being set for a career in law, watching Roy Williams’ play Sing Yer Heart Out for the Lads set him on a different path as a writer. Now 30, Sumbwanyambe has toiled hard to earn his stripes, with glowing results.
In 2014 he was chosen from 220 anonymous applicants to be Papatango’s first resident playwright, supported by the BBC. Since completing his residency, Sumbwanyambe has been commissioned by National Theatre Scotland, BBC Radio Four and Scottish Opera. He has also been shortlisted for the Channel 4/Oran Mor Comedy Drama Award, the Alfred Fagon Award and the Alfred Bradley Award. He also won the BBC’s Scriptroom competition.
His latest play, After Independence, is about the contentious issue of land ownership in Zimbabwe. Drawing on his cultural and political heritage (Sumbwanyambe’s grandfather was an elected Mayor in Zambia while his father was part of the government of the first elected president of Zambia), he explores difficult questions about race, class and identity. Sumbwanyambe tells Joy Francis about how the fight for independence in Scotland inspired his latest play, the importance of taking risks and why having life experiences makes you a better writer.
Your latest play After Independence, about land ownership and dispossession in Zimbabwe, seems to be drawn from your own intriguing cultural heritage and political lineage. What drew you to the topic, and can you briefly explain what the play is about?
It really started with the fight for independence in Scotland. All of my life, I’ve ticked the Black British box, but during the vote for independence in Scotland, I had to define as Black Scottish or Black English, and it struck a chord with me. My parents and family come from Zambia, Zimbabwe and South Africa. I saw a correlation between me and the stakes we faced in Scotland. I thought of those families in Zimbabwe, particularly white families with a family line of five to six generations in Africa, being told after independence that they were no longer African; that they had no rights and no justice. The stake they are dealing with is far greater than mine, but at the same time, it’s the stuff of great drama. I’ve always written about Africans and Africa. In this industry, as a young black man, you either write all those quote unquote black stories of black people on estates, destroying their own communities, or you write about something bigger. I wanted to write a story that had a black man or a black woman at its core, who wasn’t this stereotypical role. The play is about a black man who has agency in his life and who is intelligent. I wanted to tell a story that was from our point of view. It wasn’t the way I would describe most stories about Africa and white liberalism, where it’s often through a white person’s eyes and like looking at an animal in a zoo. It’s an antidote to that. I hope it shows the audience that we wanted to tell a story that hadn’t been seen. When we first started, it was about identity and what independence felt like to different people. It’s now more of an interrogation about what independence means to a nation, to a white woman living in a society where she has always felt like a second class citizen. It’s about the black man who lived as a second class citizen for most of his, life and now has power.
You were born in Edinburgh to Zambian parents. As a minority in Scotland with politically prominent relatives, what drew you to the arts and writing in particular?
I was in Scotland for five years. I always knew I wanted to write as a child. I used to write awful poetry and I wouldn’t show it to anyone. When I was at law school, I wrote a lot for myself personally. In my second year I wrote for the student paper. I went to review a play by Roy Williams called Sing Yer Heart Out for the Lads. I didn’t write the review. I just felt that whatever that is, I want to do it. I felt like it was telling my story. I was the only black person in my town in my teenage years. I wrote a play very quickly after that. It was called Why do all Katherines call themselves Kate. I sent it to the West Yorkshire Playhouse and the literary manager sent me a letter saying, it’s not very good but there’s potential. She gave me an opportunity to write and I wrote two short plays for them, and on the back of them I got a commission from the BBC. By the time I finished my law degree I was fully committed as a writer. I came to it at a time when there were a lot more resources for writer development with opportunities in regional theatre.
You were chosen from 220 anonymous applicants to be Papatango’s first resident playwright in 2014. How did you feel about that achievement, and how did you cope with the pressure and scrutiny?
I had done so many residencies and I had been shortlisted for major awards. I did something with Kevin Spacey. I won the Legacy Award. That is the nature of the beast. It’s like winning the lottery. All you can do is work hard and put yourself forward. You lose more prizes that you win, so when you do win you have to embrace it and run with it. Every single residency or shortlist for an award didn’t just come to me. I have written pieces that have been staged. I’ve been in the rehearsal room 19 to 20 times. I’ve written15 full lengths scripts, and it’s all experience which has put me in a great space for when I had an opportunity to do something. Those eight years of experience meant I knew I could deliver, whereas before I didn’t know. I didn’t come from a family that necessarily wanted me to go into the arts. It’s usually law and engineering. I came to it very late and I had to learn very quickly and make mistakes along the way. The good thing is that I really value it. I feel like I worked throughout my whole twenties to get it. Considering the internal politics of casting and choosing who gets commissioned to do which story, working with Papatango is like a breath of fresh air. I have worked with commissioners who have said, we want a black story, but I know they want something set on an estate. I sat down with Papatango and the BBC and said I wanted to write about climate change and global politics. They said write it, but there are some commissioners who when you suggest an idea like this, they then decide not to put it into their programme. With Papatango, they build the programme around your idea.
Any advice for budding writers of colour?
Be a good person and make sure you enjoy it, as it’s a long process. I know so many writers and playwrights in particular, and I don’t know anyone whose first play was genuinely their ‘first’ play. It’s more like their eighth or ninth play. Like me, they have been working in the background, slowly. Don’t fall into the trap that you will write a play and have a great career straight off the bat. Take Ishy Din. He has raised children and lived a life so he is full of rich material. For those who leave university and want long, full careers, it’s impossible. I teach a lot of new writing at BBC. You can teach anyone to write better, but you can’t teach them to be passionate about the world, or have something to say, or want to communicate something. You have people who come along with the right degree and right courses, but they are repackaging stories they’ve read in The Guardian, and I see the machine-like quality of their writing. Then there are others with great stories, but not great writing skills. Be engaged. Don’t be a passenger. If there is a political issue you care about, engage with it fully. Write to your MP, and don’t be afraid of being wrong and changing your mind.
After Independence is at Arcola Theatre from 4 to 28 May 2016.