'People of Song' - a Musical Journey of Memory, Identity and Healing

Jason Kooper (private source)

Namibian-German colonial history in the form of European opera? In September 2023, Momentbühne e.V. proved that opera is far more than just complicated coloraturas and has the potential of addressing historical wounds. Now we are onto the next project: 'People of Song' will premiere in October 2025 in Windhoek and then travel to Germany. Revolving around a stolen object, 'People of Song' tells the story of generational trauma and the struggle to find an expression for it.

Co-director and dramaturg Jason Kooper gives all the insider info about the development process.

When we first sat around a table in June 2023 at the Gondwana Lodge offices in Windhoek, it wasn’t clear yet what this would become. We were simply a group of artists from Namibia and Germany, drawn together by a shared love of music, theatre, and storytelling. What united us was a desire to create something meaningful, something that reflected who we are and where we come from, something that connected our two countries in a way that was honest and bold. We didn’t yet have a name, a story, or a script. 

Now, in 2025, after many meetings, rehearsals, and late-night calls across continents, People of Song is finally coming to life. It will premiere on the stage of the National Theatre of Namibia in October and later travel to Berlin and Bremen. It’s a musical. A drama. A cultural encounter. A reckoning. It’s all of those things — but more than anything, it’s a shared process of healing.

A Story Between Worlds

People of Song is set between two places: the fictional village of Oms in Namibia, and a museum in Berlin. These settings are not accidental. They reflect the cultural and historical entanglements between Namibia and Germany — colonial legacies, contested artefacts, and unresolved traumas that still echo today.

At the centre of the story are four characters: Aniros, a young woman from Oms, dreams of becoming a musician and performing in other towns. Her father, Tsaudago, is protective, shaped by his own disappointments — he once gave up his dreams to take care of his daughter and his ailing mother, Ouma. 

Ouma, full of wisdom and unresolved grief, carries stories from the past that both warn and inspire. Then there’s Hermann, a German man who receives a letter from his late father urging him to return a mysterious artefact — the Sei-sab — to Namibia.

Their lives intersect in surprising, sometimes painful ways. It’s a story about family and rupture, about confronting the ghosts of the past in order to create space for something new.

From Berlin to Oms – A Journey of Research and Resonance

In November 2023, we met in Berlin at the Humboldt Forum — a site that, for us, held both inspiration and tension. The African collection there, including many artefacts taken during colonial times, raised urgent questions: What does it mean to return something? Who gets to decide when healing begins?

Working in Berlin helped us conceptualise the role of the museum in our story. It also gave us a chance to connect more deeply as a team. The eight days we spent together — rehearsing, cooking, arguing, laughing — were transformative. Being in one place allowed us to move beyond Zoom screens and Wi-Fi failures and into genuine collaboration. We became not just co-creators, but companions.

But our most important research took place in Namibia. In September 2024, we set out on a music and culture research tour through the northern regions of the country — Karibib, Khorixas, Omuthiya, and Rundu. Our goal was not to “collect” but to listen. We wanted to understand how people relate to their traditions, to song, to memory.

In Karibib, we were welcomed with a choir performance and sat with an Ouma who told us stories of the Damara people and the significance of the Horosaub — the spiritual and cultural memory passed down through generations. She spoke with warmth and openness, treating us, complete strangers, as if we were long-lost relatives.

In Khorixas, we met with a Damara cultural group who performed songs composed by their grandfather, Michael Mutago Doeseb. They didn’t just sing — they explained, contextualised, shared the meanings behind every word and rhythm.

In Omuthiya, we found ourselves wandering through the marketplace when a vibrant woman called us to her stall. When we told her about our search, she connected us with a local cultural group who performed Owambo folktales for us. It was one of those moments that felt guided — like the story was showing us its next chapter.

In Rundu, we witnessed school choirs performing Kavango songs and dances. Each encounter left a trace — on the story, yes, but also on us as people.

One of the most emotional encounters was in a Herero village near Okakarara. We met an elder who refused to speak in English. He insisted on Otjiherero, forcing us to listen more carefully, more respectfully. At the end of our interview, he switched to English and said, “Are you done?” It was both an invitation and a challenge. It reminded us that some wounds remain unhealed, and that our presence — as Namibians and Germans working together — was complex and, for some, painful.

Collaboration as a Radical Act

People of Song is the result of deep collaboration across borders, languages, and artistic disciplines. Our team includes composers Osmond !Owoseb, Victor Ardelean, and Marco Heise. The script was developed collectively, with dramaturgical guidance from myself and Kim Mira Meyer, who co-leads the project with incredible empathy and clarity.

Choreographer Marchell Linus brought movement into the process, shaping bodies into storytelling instruments. Natasha Kitavi, who also plays Aniros, co-wrote the piece and brought her lived experience into every scene.

We are also including and quoting compositions by renowned Namibian composers like Engelhard Unaeb, Erna Chimu, Eslon Hindundu, and Ziki Hangero. Their work isn’t “background” — it’s the spiritual core of the piece. The music pulses with cultural richness and lived history.

Originally, we aimed to complete the script and score by the end of 2024. But creative processes rarely follow the clock. The work stretched into early 2025, with many moments of uncertainty. There were disagreements, missed deadlines, moments of exhaustion. But somehow, we stayed in the room. We kept talking, kept rewriting, kept singing. By early 2025, we locked the script and music.

Kim once said, “Most professional productions would have failed under these conditions — distance, miscommunication, emotional intensity. But we made it because we trusted each other.” And she’s right.

Towards the Stage — and Beyond

We are now officially in rehearsals. It’s a strange and beautiful thing to see words and songs that once lived only on paper or in voice notes come to life on stage. Each actor, each singer, each dancer brings their own story, their own ancestry, into the room.

What do we hope audiences will take away? For me, it’s not answers. It’s questions.

Questions like: What parts of our history have we buried? What stories remain untold in our families? What does reconciliation actually look like — not on a political level, but in the heart?

Natasha said it best: “I hope People of Song opens a conversation about the past. I hope it inspires people to ask questions — and that the older generation is moved to tell the full story, so we can finally begin to process, understand, and heal.”

For us, People of Song is not the end of the story. It’s the beginning of a dialogue — one that we hope will continue long after the curtain falls.

Text by: Jason Kooper, 2025.