The date is 1765. Llanrumney is a slave plantation in Jamaica, established by Captain Henry Morgan, a privateer and former lieutenant governor of the Caribbean island, who named it after his supposed birthplace, now a suburb of Cardiff. This is the setting for Azuka Oforka’s drama The Women of Llanrumney. Rooted in the truths of slavery, the play tackles its horrors with verve, energised by anger and laced, unexpectedly (if not always successfully), with broad humour.
The action is confined to a Georgian-style plantation mansion, with realistic period furniture and costumes (precise designs by Stella-Jane Odoemelam). It opens with light-skinned, long-serving housekeeper Annie introducing dark-skinned, pregnant Cerys (a field slave and the lowest of the low in the island’s hierarchy – skin tones matter here) to her new duties as an indoors maid. Annie proudly declares herself the “one true friend and confidante” of their mistress, the white-skinned, Welsh-born Elisabeth (harridan-like Nia Roberts). “Her slave,” corrects clear-sighted Cerys (Shvorne Marks, strong in her stillness).
