Choreographer Helena Waldmann: Stop the underpayment of dancers!

Some think dance has nothing to do with politics. That is where German theatre maker Helena Waldmann clearly thinks otherwise. Waldmann makes socially engaged dance theatre and, through her work, points to the 'social sore spots' of different cultures and sees transcultural similarities in them.

Made in Bangladesh is a haunting and poignant performance that draws a parallel between the poor working conditions in garment factories in Bangladesh and those within dance companies worldwide. In the foyer of the Zuiderstrandtheater, the Wereldwinkel seizes this performance as an opportunity to collect signatures from the audience trickling in: it calls on the municipality of The Hague not to allow products made from child labour. The theatre becomes a political playing field.

Twelve khatak dancers from Bangladesh perform in Made in Bangladesh a contemporary choreography by Waldmann. The complicated staccato rhythms of khatak serve as a choreographic reflection of the rhythm of the sewing machine. The dancers line up in traditional attire at the front of the stage, while microphones attached to the floor amplify the sound of their stomping feet. Behind them, images of rhythmically moving needles of sewing machines back and forth are projected on a large canvas.

Later, the performers are sorted by colour in a 4-4-3-1 arrangement, spinning rhythmically and at lightning speed, like spools of thread on a sewing machine. Behind them, a table is projected indicating whether they are meeting their targets. They must sew 100 garments an hour, or they will not get a lunch break. And those without a lunch break are not allowed to go to the toilet! No one meets the target. In the 30 minutes that the dancers are busy, according to the projection, a seamstress in Bangladesh earned 30 euro cents, while a trader in Germany sold many thousands of euros worth of clothes.

A loud bang suddenly echoes through the hall. Then Taslima Akhter's famous World Press Photo: Final Embrace. A reference to the collapse of a garment factory on the outskirts of Dhaka, Bangladesh, in 2014. The volume of the soundscape of city sounds and honking cars is gradually turned up. The dancers run around in panic. A lump in my throat. Tears roll down my cheeks. But just as I resolve never again to buy clothes that come from such factories, the first half of the performance ends with, in cow letters, "Don't boycott our products".

In the second half of Made in Bangladesh the choreography is mirrored, but otherwise virtually the same. Only the context (costumes and set) is different, as now the dancers perform as themselves: as artists. Waldmann makes it clear that they suffer from the same poor working conditions and terms as seamstresses in Bangladesh: they have to work hard and long hours, are underpaid, are constantly at risk of being fired, but are nevertheless happy with their jobs. However, the fact that dancers are passionate about their work does not mean they are willing to do it for free: "We have to pay our bills just like you do and we don't want to live on starvation wages. Thank you for understanding."

The next day, I see on Facebook that my best friend, who is also a dancer, has a new job as a cheerleader for a basketball team. When I congratulate her, she sighs that it remains to be seen what it will pay off. She does not get paid for rehearsals. When I ask her what she earns, she says she works seven days a week on various projects and then, in a good month, receives a thousand euros. "If I got paid for everything I do, I would earn more than 3,000 euros a month!" she informs me.

I am immediately reminded of the question Waldmann asks the audience in the follow-up discussion: "The exploitation in Bangladesh is known, but are we willing to see the exploitation that happens in our own community?"

Made in Bangladesh was shown on 21 October at the Zuiderstrandtheater in The Hague. The India Dance Festival, organised by Korzo, continues until 31 October.