Moving, unsettling, and beautifully performed, this is a powerful adaptation of a true story about one man’s journey through the harsh migrant routes of the Sahara.
Summary
Rating
Excellent!
Some people’s stories are rarely told. Not because they lack drama or depth, but because the weight of their truth sits uneasily in the world. They are fragile, stitched together from loss, pain, and struggle – often left unspoken for fear they will be misunderstood, overlooked, or simply not believed. Little Brother is Ibrahima Balde’s story. And he tells us honestly: “I didn’t want to talk about all these things because as I describe them, I see them all over again.”
Born in Conakry, Guinea, in 1994, Ibrahima’s life took him across the perilous migrant routes of the Sahara in search of his younger brother. In 2018, he arrived in Europe and met Basque poet Amets Arzallus Antia through a migrant support network. It is from this meeting that the narrative begins, and from that point forward, the stage belongs to Ibrahima, played with quiet intensity by Blair Gyabaah.
The five-strong company take on over 35 roles between them with agility and clarity. Whitney Kehinde and Ivan Oyik bring warmth and dynamism as Ibrahima’s mother and brother, while Mo Sesay lends gravitas as his father. It is difficult to see Youness Bouzinab as a threatening Libyan guard, though he is more convincing and comfortable in his narrative function as the author, Amets, threading the story together.
Natalie Johnson’s versatile, multi-platformed set becomes a desert, motorbike, building site, prison wall, the sea, and more. The sound design, rich in texture and tension, transports us across the globe, while Falle Nioke’s resonant and rhythmical music helps to punctuate each chapter of the story with precision.
The storytelling is masterful and gripping, and the tension amongst the audience was palpable. Even as the play moves through scenes of trauma and endurance, there is lightness and wit in Timberlake Wertenbaker’s adaptation of the story, with the dialogue well-written and helping to break up the suspense: “I’m not a Muslim, Ibrahima… I’m part of another team, the Catholics, and we have different tactics.” These moments of levity never undermine the gravity of the story but instead allow it to breathe.
That said, the early scenes, particularly the initial exchanges between Ibrahima and his father, could benefit from some trimming. The pacing is slow to start, and in a piece so charged with lived experience, striking the balance between authenticity and momentum is a delicate challenge.
As the story closes, a brief epilogue reminds us that this is not fiction. We’re given details of Ibrahima’s real asylum application. The audience is invited not just to reflect, but to recognise: the people who walk past us silently each day may be carrying stories like this one. Little Brother does not ask for pity; it asks to be heard. And, in doing so, it demands we reckon with the truths we often choose not to see.
Playwright: Timberlake Wertenbaker
Authors: Amets Arzallus Antia and Ibrahima Balde
Director: Stella Powell-Jones
Producer: Jessie Anand
Composer: Falle Nioke
Sound Designer: Max Pappenheim
Lighting Designer: Jahmiko Marshall
Little Brother plays at Jermyn Street Theatre until Saturday 21 June.
