Zoo's Wabeno not your typical showstopper An insider's experience with Middlebury's experimental performance art's

Author: Dina Magaril



When my roommate first received an invitation to "Wabeno" it was in the form of a note in her mailbox that read, "'Wabeno,' we own you." At first, we thought some strange cult on campus was trying to recruit her. It was only when I saw the posters advertising that Wabeno was some sort of performance, for which tickets needed to be purchased, that I stopped worrying for my roommate's safety. However, the smiling neon face on the poster did not give many clues as to what we should expect from the performance, so I decided to check it out for myself.

Upon arriving at the Hepburn Zoo last Thursday night, I encountered dozens of students, clothed only in their underwear and some sort of white tissue-thin jumpsuit.

I decided to let my inhibitions go and put the jumpsuit on myself. Looking back, I was the only person who wore clothes under her suit. Everyone else was either stripped down to their undergarments or wearing a pair of shorts. One young man chose to forego attire entirely.

Perhaps I should have followed the clothes-free example, but instead I waited calmly in line as we were divided into two rows. After the first row had disappeared through Hepburn Zoo's entrance, my row was led in. We entered a dark room that was divided in two by a white sheet. There we were, in our ridiculous jumpsuits, awkwardly dancing to some sort of electro/house/tribal music blasting through the speakers.

Finally, the actors appeared. Their shadows were illuminated as they performed what seemed like a tribal dance behind the curtain. Although I had been forewarned that Wabeno was an interactive show, I was still thinking along the lines of De La Guarda, or Blue Man group, which both select audience members to participate in their performances. "Wabeno," however, took its promise to the extreme. With encouragement from the "audience," they finally emerged.

In my section, the actors were dressed in white costumes, resembling a mix between a space suit and an outfit one might wear while escaping from a mental asylum. My suspicions were confirmed when the actors began "speaking" in a strange alien language. But, to my surprise, after about a minute, the other students who had come to see the show began talking back. Had I missed something? The members of my "tribe" began dancing with each other and jumping on the mattress that happened to be lying on the floor of the "stage."

After a few minutes of confusion I realized I was beginning to understand this strange alien language.

The people in white encouraged the audience to do strange things. One girl lined us up so we were all holding each other's ankles. Another smelled my hair. To an outsider, the whole fiasco probably looked like a group of college students tripping on acid, and to the members of my tribe it was a bizarre out-of-body experience. Next, the actors brought out bowls of paint and decorated our faces, officially initiating us into the tribe. In seconds, the show turned into a giant paint fight. People I had never talked to were drawing on my face and neck, and some brave ones even went for the hair. Others began painting the walls and leaving handprints.

Eventually someone started to chant, and we all followed suit. I cannot remember now what we were so passionately chanting, but I do remember that I was really into it. I guess our chant meant something to the other group, because at the height of our mantra the sheet separating us from the other side dropped to the ground. Large foam noodles fell from the ceiling and were immediately grabbed up by both tribes' members.

Let me add here that the other tribe was the "color tribe," since their "leaders" had blue-and-red painted faces and their clothes were covered with a rainbow of paint in stark contrast to our white claylike paint. And so began the war between the colorful and white tribes, for that is the only way I can think to describe what happened next.

I stood on the sidelines for a minute, just observing the almost animal behavior of the tribes as they hit each other and the walls with their noodles. Some chanted and beat their noodles simultaneously.

A thought ran through my mind that perhaps this was someone's psychology experiment on mob mentality or some other type of absurd social experiment.

But then a friend dragged me into the war zone and erased these thoughts from my mind. I got really into "Wabeno," the paint fights, the strange dancing. It was unlike anything I had ever seen at Middlebury, or anywhere else for that matter. It allowed its participants to let their inhibitions go and be guided by their senses. I do not think I've ever had so much fun on a Thursday night. After the show the actors hugged everyone who participated and thanked us for coming. I felt as if we had all shared a liberating experience together.

I regret not following the example of my fellow nudists, because my clothes were completely ruined after the show. But I can honestly say that it was worth it.