There is a moment in In the Seashell Hum where words stop making immediate sense.
“404 error message. The signs are gone. They stole the seashell radio tape. I am the sign.”
The words arrive broken, strange, almost nonsensical. At first, the audience laughs nervously, unsure whether to interpret the moment as poetry, madness, memory, or performance experimentation.
But as the production progresses, the fragments begin forming an emotional language of their own. Suddenly, the confusion feels intentional. Human. Familiar, even.
This Mental Awareness Month, I had the opportunity to watch ‘In the Seashell Hum‘, a psychodrama stage production by Adipo Sidang’ currently running at the Kenya National Theatre.
The play centres on Baraka, portrayed by Nick Ndeda, a visual artist navigating unresolved trauma, alcoholism, emotional instability, and the exhausting weight of feeling abandoned by nearly everyone he has loved.
A man trapped between grief and memory
Baraka’s life is suspended between memory and denial. While his family prepares to mark the 10th anniversary of his cousin’s death, he remains mentally trapped in a completely different reality where the occasion is still a wedding celebration. To him, his cousin’s absence does not register as death alone. It feels like betrayal.
And abandonment becomes the emotional language through which he interprets everything else in his life.
His mother died by suicide after years of frustration and emotional pain. His father disappeared afterwards. His sister left too, even though she eventually returns. Baraka internalises all of these exits as proof that he is unworthy of love, stability, or permanence. Even in adulthood, even with a loving girlfriend standing beside him, he still cannot believe someone would truly stay.
So he drinks himself to sleep. Every day!
Baraka’s girlfriend (played by Foi Wambui), however, remains present even after witnessing the emotional instability, the grief, the avoidance, the fear of commitment, and the self-destruction.
Through her character, the play quietly challenges one of the most dangerous assumptions around mental illness, that people battling psychological distress are “too much” to love.
Instead, the production emphasises the importance of support systems, emotional patience, community care, and human connection in recovery journeys.
How psychodrama transforms the stage
The production does not approach mental health from the usual awareness-campaign angle filled with statistics. It pulls audiences directly into the emotional disorder itself.
Unlike traditional theatre, psychodrama leans heavily into reenactment, emotional processing, memory reconstruction, and psychological immersion.
Internal battles become visible through fragmented dialogue, distorted timelines, recurring imagery, and symbolic scenes that mirror how trauma can disrupt ordinary thinking patterns.
At several points, the audience experiences Baraka’s confusion alongside him rather than simply observing it from a safe distance.
The recurring seashell imagery becomes particularly haunting throughout the performance. In one recollection, Baraka remembers stories about a seashell radio that carried voices through humming static. As children, they tried listening closely but could only hear noise.
That image quietly evolves into one of the play’s most powerful metaphors, the struggle to make sense of emotional pain that cannot easily be translated into words.
Kenya’s mental health crisis cannot remain hidden
The themes explored in ‘In the Seashell Hum’ feel especially urgent within the Kenyan context.
According to the World Health Organization, nearly 25 percent of Kenyans experience mental health conditions such as anxiety and depression, yet access to care remains limited due to underfunding, stigma, economic barriers, and shortage of specialised professionals.
Even with increased public conversation in recent years, many people still suffer privately.
Speaking to this writer after the performance, Sidang’ noted that conversations around mental health in Kenya still largely happen in isolated spaces despite the growing crisis.
We are taught growing up to be strong men…We are seeing rising cases of suicide, depression, extreme forms of anxiety, and all these things are affecting families, homes, some are triggered by workplace conditions, toxic environments, etc. And of course, the economy. So from a personal level, I know people, friends, and relatives, close and distant relatives, affected by mental health. The things that people don’t talk about, there’s a lot of silence, and I think art is the best way to communicate some of these difficulties.
These realities are reflected strongly through Nick’s character, Baraka.
He does not know how to process emotional pain openly, so he numbs it through alcohol and emotional withdrawal instead. He keeps spiraling internally while pretending to function normally on the outside.
The play captures a reality many Kenyan men quietly live through. From childhood, vulnerability is often discouraged while silence is mistaken for strength. Over time, emotional suppression begins manifesting through depression, anger, substance abuse, detachment, or even suicide.
Women carry invisible emotional burdens too
While the production highlights the emotional struggles many men face, it also avoids presenting mental health as an issue affecting one gender alone.
Baraka’s mother represents another painful reality in many homes. Women silently carrying emotional exhaustion, frustration, and psychological distress while still being expected to hold families together.
In many communities, women are conditioned to endure rather than express emotional overwhelm. The expectation to remain resilient at all times often leaves little room for vulnerability or support.
Through both male and female experiences, the play demonstrates how unaddressed emotional pain can quietly destroy individuals and relationships over time.
Why productions like this matter
Sidang’ revealed that developing ‘In the Seashell Hum’ took six years, beginning in 2019. The process involved extensive research, reading, and conversations with people directly affected by mental health conditions.
People have been talking about mental health, but often in isolated spaces. The organisations dealing with mental health, some of them are partnering with us here. But the overarching issue currently is that while we have policies, these policies are only as good as their implementation. Beyond that, there is also the cultural aspect of it all. We live in a society where people don’t talk about mental health because of stigma. It is time for us to talk about these things.
For me, as an artist and a playwright, the best way of going about it is writing about it and bringing it to life. It has taken me six years to create what you are seeing here. That meant doing a lot of research, reading extensively, speaking to people, and putting myself in the shoes of those struggling with mental health challenges.
At a time when Kenya continues recording rising cases of depression, burnout, anxiety, substance abuse, and suicide, artistic spaces are becoming increasingly important in opening difficult conversations.
The reality is that many people may never step into therapy rooms, but they will encounter stories through theatre, music, film, literature, or digital content. Art often reaches emotional spaces formal conversations cannot.
And that is where productions like ‘In the Seashell Hum‘ become important.
They remind audiences that mental illness is not a character flaw, weakness, or failure. It is human. It is complicated. And for many people, healing begins the moment somebody finally understands the noise they have been trying to survive inside for years.
If any part of this story feels familiar to your own experience, pause with it gently. You do not have to carry everything alone. Talk to someone you trust, or reach out to a mental health professional. Support is available, even when it feels far away.
