Hèctor Parra creates a work of memory

The basis for this new opera is an accident that took place in the Democratic Republic of Congo in February 2019, involving a Swiss multinational operating in the country. A tanker carrying sulfuric acid collided with a bus on a road in Katanga, a region rich in minerals and other raw materials essential to the technological progress of the modern world. The toll was tragic, with over twenty dead and many seriously injured by the toxic substances, which also polluted the river and the surrounding land of Kabwe.

 Hèctor Parra, in a world overrun by macabre events, why was this subject of particular interest to you?
Aviel Kahn, director of Grand Théâtre de Genève commissioned me to write an opera about the Red Cross and the birth of modern humanitarianism in Geneva in the 19th century.^e century. So he brought me and the Swiss filmmaker and director Milo Rau who had another project in mind that I immediately embraced, because I saw several fundamental things in it. Milo's background is in documentary theater and political activism. Since 2013, he has been working in the Congo on the issue of genocide and economic warfare, which gave rise to his Congo Tribunal. This opera was born of his love for the Congo and this court. When he suggested this subject and the original script, I had already composed a number of pieces relating to West Africa. Africa is undoubtedly one of my favorite regions. I hadn't physically been there before this opera, but it interested me a lot, including on a musical level. The sources of our humanity are African. If we want to confront the very sources of our own history, we have to go to Africa. In this operaWe're talking about an accident caused by the extreme neglect and abuse of this vast region by all the world's economic powers. The injustice and brutality of the event struck me immediately. We're talking about a core population that is in fact allegorical of the whole of Africa. Today, thirty million people in this region suffer from these abuses. This continues in a kind of extractive post-colonialism of unimaginable cynicism, without any humanitarianism. It was important to us to do justice in some way to these victims of the 2019 accident. For all these reasons, we felt it was very important to do an opera on this universal subject.

 The vocal cast includes two soprano voices - Axelle Fanyo and Lauren Michelle -two mezzo-sopranos - Katarina Bradić and Idunnu Münch -a countertenor - Serge Kakudji -a tenor - Peter Tantsits -and two bass-baritones - Willard White and Simon Shibambu. How did you go about selecting these voices?
We sought them out and had zoom meetings. I listened to recordings and got to know their voices well so that I could write for each of them. For example, Katarina Bradić, in the role of the truck driver, is a very coloratura, baroque mezzo-soprano with an articulate voice of great beauty. I tailor-made a role for her, where she can express all her emotions, all her vocality. At the same time, the Congolese writer Fiston Mwanza Mujila was developing the libretto, based on a scenario drawn up by Milo. For the composer, the libretto and the relationship with the librettist are vital. All my librettists have become great friends. It's a lifelong relationship. It's like a twinning. Opera is one of the art forms where teamwork is very important. You need total cohesion, but you also need to be open-minded, because sometimes you have to give in to your own ideas and adapt, having the mental plasticity to be able to understand the other and express in the best way what the other wants. Even if the composer is a central figure in an operatic work, I don't want to impose all my preconceived ideas. On the contrary, with this opera I wanted to evolve as a composer and as a human being. And the climax was my trip to Katanga.

Congolese musical tradition, in particular Luba culture, has deeply infused and guided your creative process. What was the main challenge you faced on this trip?
The main challenge was to really absorb the culture of Katanga and Kasai, as well as the thousand-year-old cultures of this country, to apprehend this distant land that I didn't know. But also to get to know in depth the people and characters who inspired us for this opera, and to express them in a beautiful, sincere and profound way. I went to the Katanga region above all to meet the survivors of the accident in person, to document their words, and to be able to work and exchange with Milo and the creative team. Luba culture, 400 years old, is imbued with harmony and femininity, and is extraordinarily rich and creative! Luba art was a fundamental source of inspiration for the composition of Justice. The themes are based on the traditional Luba, Hemba, Lulua, Kaonde and Lunda repertoires from the south of the country. For months I transcribed and listened to a set of 150 traditional pieces from the region, some of which are over 200 years old. In a way, I was trying to convert myself into a local. In any case, I began to like it, and when you know it, you like it! I was able to grasp the deep connection that even a European, Catalan composer can have with this culture. So I composed this opera surrounded by knowledge, readings and books. For me, this wove a whole imaginary world also created by the fantasy of not having been to the Congo until the end of the project. These encounters with the victims enabled me to perceive their emotions, their stronghold, their dignity, and to recalibrate even further the lyrical emotions I wanted to express through the score. For example, it was vital for me to listen to the voice of Yowali Binti, a mother who, along with her daughter, was a victim of the accident, the way she expressed herself in Swahili, and what she wanted to say, how she moved, what her vital impulse was... I then expressed this to the lyrical artists. For me, it was a kind of "transducer" of this Congolese energy to opera in Europe.

The score favors female voices to convey emotion, and the orchestral writing is extremely complex rhythmically, with a large percussion section playing reed instruments - vibraphone, xylophone or marimba, as well as grand piano and harp. How was the score received by the singers and musicians? l'Orchestre de la Suisse Romande ?
They took to it straight away. They loved the writing and the lyricism. The communication between the singers and myself was natural, immediate and very profound. Otherwise it wouldn't work. Also, in Luba culture, women play a decisive role in decision-making. That's why in Justicethe vast majority of the most moving and lyrical passages are sung by female voices. I wanted to achieve an updated lyrical language that would bring into play the problems of our time, through a highly expressive lyricism that embraces the most varied emotions. In the writing, there are strident, metallic sonorities that are not typical of the symphony orchestra. So I transformed the orchestra to bring it closer to traditional Katangan music. As for the rhythms, I drew inspiration from Luba ceremonial dances. Serge and Fiston have told me that they fully felt the music they love, but that it had been completely transformed. For the musicians of the OSR, under the direction of Titus Engel, it's new music, very demanding, and not classical. But I sense that they enjoy playing this music. There are many passages of extreme virtuosity, it's music from the tropical savannah, with lots of skins, wood and metal. The instruments were actually built with metal, which is also the basis of this acoustic Luba culture. So I filled the orchestra with metal, with brass instruments, but also bells, sanzas, anvils...

 Among the elements that make this opera so innovative is the presence on stage of Congolese guitarist Kojack Kossakamvwe in a key role, whose virtuoso improvisations are captivating...
Yes, Kojack is a guitarist of great renown in his region. I didn't compose a single note for him, as he can't read music. So he prepared for the project by listening to the orchestra, and I created guitar moments for him in the score, between each act. His improvisations blend funk and traditional Kinshasa music. This creates moments of relaxation that we were looking for, to bring a less brutal side... He plays his own composition in tune with mine and in tune with the drama. By bringing this tragedy together with modern Congolese folk music, he adds a whole other dimension that does precisely what I could never do, because I'm not a Congolese folk musician. So it's a dimension we didn't want to miss. And that's why Kojack is one of the three narrators of the story, along with librettist Fiston Mujila and countertenor Serge Kakudji. All three weave the deepest true Congolese relationships.

Fiston Mwanza Mujila told us how important it was for him to "bear witness" on stage, and how he felt he was fulfilling "a duty to remember" when writing the libretto. For, in his view, there is a culture of amnesia in the Congo. Can this opera overcome this culture of amnesia, redress an iniquity and fight against oblivion?
To have justice, you have to break amnesia! Let's hope this opera can do just that, as it's getting the press and the whole world talking. In any case, it helps to stimulate a certain awareness and sensitization, also through the international "Justice for Kabwe" campaign. In the West, opera is the cultural event that brings together all the arts. And for the first time, at the heart of this event, forgotten African voices are being heard, and they are of crucial importance. We are giving an operatic voice to the real victims of the global economic system. It's also important to remember that anyone from Katanga, like Fiston or Serge, is in some way a collateral victim, as they have relatives or acquaintances who worked in the mines. For Fiston, writing the booklet was also an exercise in mourning.

The accident and its consequences are captured on screen in a video designed by Moritz von Dungen. It's an opera that plays heavily on the relationship between reality and fiction...
There are no real victims on stage; all are artists, actors or singers, allegories of real victims of the accident. Serge Kakudji plays Milambo Kayamba, a shopkeeper who lost both his legs in the accident, but he also represents himself and thus plays two characters. Axelle Fanyo's character is also a blend of two women we met in Katanga who appear in the video. As for the biographies that scroll across the screen, they're all real. We're always treading a fine line between fiction, i.e. the opera, the characters who are archetypes of sorts, and the real victims that the whole team went to meet in the Congo.

It's new in the world of opera to integrate documentary theater...
It's happened before, but not on this subject and not in such a far-reaching way. Here, we've really joined forces with two dimensions that almost never meet. Milo Rau's theater has hardly ever met opera. For my part, this is the first time I've worked with a director like Milo, and with a Congolese librettist. Fiston is one of Africa's most avant-garde writers and poets. Writing the libretto allowed him to renegotiate with a certain authenticity. As he says, the challenge for him was to combine sincerity with modesty towards the victims. He expresses what happened in his country, with an innovative language. So it was vital for me to collaborate with him. We're making a fully Congolese language sing. And that's very special. This opera was created in a very collaborative way between the director, the composer and the librettist. It's a project of European and African collaboration.

A sham trial resulted in nothing but derisory compensation for the victims of the accident. This opera is a stone thrown at the economic, political and judicial powers that be. Do you think it will lead to the reopening of a trial?
It's really conscious. For me, lyrical singing is not decorative singing, it's not the aestheticization of an act of speech, it goes beyond that. For me, lyricism is precisely the opposite: it's the search for something atavistic, something deep within us. The lyricism inherent in human beings is, in this case, expressed by an operatic voice. But in other cultures, lyricism can be expressed by other types of voice. In Africa, the voice is taut, without vibrato. There may be some criticism that extreme lyricism could betray violence, brutality, or disconnect us. But after what I experienced in the Congo, I frankly feel the opposite. When we sang the little bits of aria to the victims of the accident, they felt relieved...

Does opera have to deal with today's issues? Should a creator have a political responsibility?
I've convinced myself that it is. I'd say it's more of an ethical responsibility. But perhaps a political responsibility on the ground too, because we need them. If we don't talk about these people in concrete terms and name them, then there's no point, because it's too vague and too far removed from the real thing. I'm all for taking political intervention through art to its logical conclusion. Milo Rau has really convinced me of this. I've already done so in other pieces. Orgia denounces atrocious consumerism. In Les BienveillantesI denounce the genocidal impulse of human beings. And in Justiceis to denounce neo-colonialism in Africa, and the way in which multinationals go about prolonging it over time. Music and creativity can be used to denounce this with the beauty of creation, to awaken consciences, to give a voice to people who have lost their voice. And in this case, we give the most beautiful voice, that of the extreme lyrical voice. For me, this artistic "beauty" is the most powerful weapon against brutality, this beauty in quotation marks, because sometimes it can also be a terrible bursting of the orchestra or absolute noise. The powers that be don't like it when artists get involved. But at the same time, we mustn't forget that craftsmanship, i.e. the quality of work that is intrinsically artistic, is also vital in generating a result that is all the stronger for it.