Three women hold us captive for two hours of trauma, humour and complex love
In April 2014, 276 girls were abducted from their school in Chibok, northern Nigeria, by the Islamist insurgent group Boko Haram. The story made headlines, celebrities adopted the cause and #BringBackOurGirls trended. But in a world that serves up fresh horrors daily, the story faded. Today, 90 of those girls are still missing, and more than 1,000 schoolchildren in the region have since been abducted. This powerful play, directed by Ewa Dina, brings them out of the shadows, writes Katie Kelly.
Three young women burst onto the stage in an explosive dance and hold us captive for two hours of trauma, humour and complex love. Tisana always searches for the silver lining. At first she is teased for fearing that grazed knees will make her less attractive on the marriage market; she becomes a woman willing to be scarred by whippings rather than betray her conscience. Ruhab’s beauty is an asset in the village and offers a way out in the camp. Her will to survive leads to choices her friends cannot support, but ultimately she chooses them. Haleema is the stubborn force of nature, unyielding throughout – the clown who carries a deep sadness.
At the start, the girls’ lives are shaped by the need to please men. Strikingly, in captivity, where men hold absolute power over them, they find new forms of agency and freedom, albeit in tragic circumstances.
The costumes and colours in Theresa Ikoko’s play bring African soil to South London, and the soundtrack is deeply evocative, beautiful and terrifying. The sound design stands out: when rain fell or mosquitoes whined, it felt almost tangible. All three actors are brilliant. In a small theatre with nowhere to hide, every facial expression visible, they switch seamlessly from terror to humour, hope to despair.
Inevitably, this is a tough watch, and though it feels strange to single out one trigger in a play about trauma, the visceral portrayal of a miscarriage merits a small warning.
The women know they have been largely forgotten. They mock the impotence of the hashtag. When new girls arrive, one observes cynically: ‘I saw some new girls today, maybe people will come for them, people who aren’t already tired.’ New arrivals also bring news of the outside world, and the girls get hooked on Big Brother – a shaming reminder to those of us who are free of how easily our lives go on while theirs stand still.
Captive, these young women never lose their dignity. However differently they navigate their situation, the bond of love between them holds, offering the audience light, hope and challenge. These are not statistics but courageous, complex and beautiful human beings who deserve, at the very least, to be remembered.
Young Vic, Maria Studio until 21 Nov 2026.
Booking and full details: https://www.youngvic.org/
