At Central Square Theater, 'Her Portmanteau' is a slow burn

It’s desperately quiet in Adiaha Ufot’s one-bedroom apartment.

She and her half-sister, Iniabasi Ekpeyong, have spent their entire lives apart. Now, they’re doing the awkward dance of trying to get to know each other while they wait for their mom, Abasiama Ufot, to arrive in Mfoniso Udofia’s simmering “Her Portmanteau.” The show is produced by Central Square Theater and The Front Porch Arts Collective, showing through April 20.

Adiaha, portrayed by a fantastic Lorraine Victoria Kanyike, is doing her best to be hospitable. But when confronted by her sister’s stony silence, she begins arranging, then rearranging the colorful pillows on her copper-colored couch in her well-appointed apartment (created by scenic designer Shelley Barish). She fills the space with small talk of tea and cold weather, and when that fails, she returns to tidying. Things get stickier when Abasiama finally shows up (played by a lovely Patrice Jean-Baptiste).

Language, birthright, and broken promises are just a few of the themes that seep out onstage in this well-acted fourth installment of Udofia’s nine-play Ufot Family Cycle, which is being produced by theaters across Greater Boston over two years. In the first, “Sojourners,” matriarch Abasiama and her husband Ukpong are at odds and part ways. She remarries and starts a family with her new beau, Disciple, whom audiences learn more about in “The Grove,” while her first child, Iniabasi, is raised by her father in Nigeria. Abasiama’s first child with Disciple is named Adiaha, meaning eldest in their language, Ibibio. In the third show, “runboyrun,” audiences learn more about Disciple and Abasiama and the ghosts of the past they still battle.

A wonderfully hot and cold Jade A. Guerra plays Iniabasi, who has just arrived in New York from Nigeria with a small red suitcase and the rage and disappointment of being abandoned by her mother. She’s also bringing her own expectations about how her mother will look and act, how her half-siblings live, and what she is owed. And she’s not afraid to tell her mother what she thinks in Ibibio, thinking that her sister won’t understand.

For those of us with half-siblings and similar backgrounds, it’s easy to see ourselves in Iniabasi, who flinches when Adiaha casually refers to Abasiama as “my mom.” It’s the kind of dagger that gets thrown unintentionally but pierces just the same. There are other intentional jabs, though, and most of them are thrown by the Ufot’s patriarch Disciple (who doesn’t appear in this play). He makes it clear, by naming his first-born daughter Adiaha, that he’s trying to lessen Iniabasi’s significance in the family. But other things, like Abasiama being late to the airport to pick up a daughter she abandoned and not explaining to Iniabasi where she should stay, and why she’s not staying in Massachusetts with her and Disciple, are grave missteps.

“Her Portmanteau” is a solid continuation in the Ufot family’s storyline, but it has a different presence than the richness of “The Grove.” It feels slightly outside the robust familial sphere and isn’t as muscular as previous offerings. Originally published in 2019, "Her Portmanteau" was staged prior to “The Grove,” which had its world premiere at The Huntington this year.

This play leaves me with more questions about Abasiama and the decisions she’s made. I want to know how she let so much time pass before she reunited with Iniabasi. Why didn’t she fight Disciple more to include her child in their lives? What happens when Iniabasi eventually meets her other siblings? Does Iniabasi go back to Nigeria?

The audience also doesn’t know much about the interiority of Abasiama. But, if the past is indicative of the future, these questions could be addressed in future installments.

In “Her Portmanteau,” it’s a slow burn watching the trio try to work it out. But perhaps it’s a deliberate move from director Tasia A. Jones to use this space to put us in the characters’ shoes. In the moments with little dialogue, I squirmed with discomfort, waiting, like Adiaha and Abasiama, for Iniabasi to realize she was safe and could relax.

Even still, with all her uncertainty, Iniabasi carried this small red suitcase, a bag that was once her mother’s, from Nigeria to America. When Abasiama recognizes it, she appears hopeful that some good will come of this reunion, and maybe it will all work out.

But sometimes, the things we carry are heavier than we realize. Only time will tell if Iniabasi will truly put down her disappointment and anger with her mother and choose love and forgiveness.

Central Square Theater and The Front Porch Arts Collective’s production of “Her Portmanteau” runs through April 20 at Central Square Theater.