This was our theatre, not just another bar - a place to let what is bottled, out. A broad-winged fruit bat lived in there, stirred by each night’s trip of lights. A place to let what is bottled, out - away from sun and mutondo trees. A broad-winged fruit bat lived in there. It circled mysteries, murders and affairs. Sealed from sun and mutondo trees we brought our British traits to bear; circled our mysteries, murders and affairs beyond the inner doors and concrete tiers. We brought our British traits to bear, blew Zambian dust from aging scripts beyond the inner doors and concrete tiers, tried on those smiling, grotesque masks. We blew Zambian dust from aging scripts. Tried on those smiling, grotesque masks. This was our theatre, not just another bar stirred by each night’s trip of lights. About Graham BurchellGraham Burchell was born in…