Vivid, vibrant, vital “Jaja’s” at Berkeley Rep
There’s so much Life with a capital L in Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, a dazzling slice-of-life play by Jocelyln Bioh now at Berkeley Repertory Theatre (in a co-production/mini-tour with Arena Stage, Chicago Shakespeare Theatre and La Jolla Playhouse). This West Coast premiere is the kind of experience you can only have in the theater: it’s part documentary, part comedy, part drama and part immersion into the richness of a world you might not otherwise be able to access.
In only 90 minutes, Bioh, along with director Whitney White and an extraordinary cast and design team, reveal fascinating and moving details about individual lives and the life of a particular community. The city is Upper Manhattan, the neighborhood is Harlem and the setting is a hair salon called Jaja’s African Hair Braiding. We spend one day, from security gate up in the morning to late-ish evening when that security gate comes back down, with the mostly West African women who work for Jaja, their clients and various people in the neighborhood.
We drop into these people’s lives on a semi-ordinary day. There is one big event – Jaja’s maybe-love, maybe-green card wedding to a white guy who promises to eliminate all her immigration worries – but no one from the shop, not even Jaja’s teenage daughter Marie, is attending the civil ceremony. Other than the owner’s nuptials, it’s a typically bustling day full of customers (sweet and surly), blistered fingers (damn those microbraids!), bodega bagels, co-worker squabbles and – above all – hairdos that dazzle in their variety and spectacle (the hair and wig design is by Nikiya Mathis, whose work is just beyond).
Everything here feels lived in and alive, from the detailed salon set by David Zinn to the constant stream of music videos on the salon’s screens (video deisng by Stefania Bulbarella). And then there are the costumes by Dede Ayite – character defining and realistic but with a zing of extra fabulousness. When Jaja enters the salon in all her wedding dress glory, it’s like the arrival of a goddess (and Victoire Charles’ outsize performance only emphasizes that).
The rhythms and the repartee are lively and flow beautifully as director White knows just how to bring focus into certain conversations or interactions. We quickly know who’s having marital strife (Tiffany Renee Johnson as Aminata), who’s mad at whom (Awa Sal Secka’s Bea has a beef with so-called client stealer Ndidi, played by Aisha Sougou) and who’s afraid of sharing her life’s ambition with her larger-than-life mother (Jordan Rice as Marie). Through it all, there’s a sense of grim reality related to immigration papers (or lack thereof) and an administration – the play is set in 2019 – hostile to immigrants. Déjà vu all over again. Though men are discussed (and dissed and dismissed and dreamed over), we only meet a few men from the neighborhood (all played by Kevin Aoussou the night I saw the show), and while mostly friendly, they don’t hold a candle to the women.
Enough cannot be said about how natural and vibrant the peformances are here. Even Bisserat Tseggai as Miriam, one of the gentler souls in the shop, looms large once we hear more of her story as she spends 12 hours (!) working on the microbraids of her customer (Mia Ellis as Jennifer). Of special note are Melanie Brezill and Leovina Charles, who play six different customers, each with her own special spark.
The more the hours of the day speed by, the more these interweaving stories coalesce. In a way, it’s all like a prelude to some big plot action, but once we get there, it’s almost an anti-climax. The community we come to know – and even briefly to feel a little part of – has closed ranks to do what needs to be done to protect their own. To take action, sure, but also to provide love and support.
What has been a bright, engrossing comedy with flashes of underlying drama suddenly becomes something bigger and more poignant: a testament to the power – and necessity – of community in times of celebration and in times of crisis. Jaja’s African Hair Braiding is funny, sad, inspiring and so of the moment it should be required viewing for us all.
FOR MORE INFORMATION
Jocelyn Bioh’s Jaja’s African Hair Braiding continues through Dec. 15 at Berkeley Repertory Theatre’s Peet’s Theatre, 2025 Addison St., Berkeley. Running time: 90 minutes (no intermission). Tickets are $25-$144 (subject to change). Call 510-647-2949 or visit berkeleyrep.org.