Setting: Act 1 A Street Iraqi
Village
Act
2 A
Street Philadelphia
Abstract: Mutual
antagonists discover concepts of “right,” “wrong,” “evil,” and “terrorist,” to
be matters of perspective. A “moment” between the accidental triggering of an
IED and the irrevocable consequences of the resulting explosion enable enemies
to communicate. This play explores the possibility of understanding consequences
in enough time to still make choices.
Characters
(Cast of 8 plus ushers)
Tariq/Tarl: A man who lives
in a village near Baghdad Philadelphia
Sergeant Benjamin
Alexander: A U.S. Soldier and a British Grenadier on patrol
in a village near Baghdad Philadelphia
He has a wife and a daughter as well.
A wife: Same actor plays four parts, including wife of
Tariq/Tarl, Alexander’s wife, an usher, and an
audience member.
A daughter: Same actor plays three parts, including Tariq/Tarl’s daughter, Alexander’s daughter, and
the daughter of the couple in the
audience.
The Commander: A U.S. Army Captain and a British
Major
Three Soldiers: Three Soldiers on patrol.
Ushers: Ushers in head scarves.
--Scene 1 and Act 1
--
The audience is being seated
into a Tigris
River U.S. U.S.
Once most of the seating has
been completed, with a few of the last punctual attendees being “detained” in
back of rows, One usher (down front) is suddenly surrounded, thrown to the
floor, searched, handcuffed, taken away screaming, “I have done nothing!” She is
pulled away from a down center group of audience that must be seated by another
usher. As she is carried out, her mouth is taped shut, and the screaming ceases.
Soldiers continue to interact
with audience in a commanding, often arrogant manner. Periodically, small groups
of soldiers move across the stage, from stage left to stage right. Some soldiers, patrolling among the audience,
ask to see several patrons’ ticket stubs. Distant gunshots and helicopters are
the sounds behind the shouts of maneuver and command. Wisps of smoke with
gunpowder and sulfur smells move through the house. Final seating continues.
One soldier, the
“commander,” steps forward, stands near one corner of the rug in the middle of
the street. He pivots to receive a bull horn by another soldier and he begins
addressing the audience in an incomprehensible language, exaggerating the
bearing of his command. His pivot twists and displaces the rug.
COMMANDER: “Ira
Pakt resitsik Ap Ga
He lowers the bull horn, shouts
something else incomprehensible at an usher. An usher timidly joins him on
stage. He speaks to her; she “translates” into the bull horn for the
audience:
USHER: “Good Evening
Ladies and Gentlemen, We have been, uh, commanded to take our seats as the
situation is about to be, uh, stabilized. You are, uh, instructed to turn off
your cell phones, pagers, and, uh, any other communications devices. Flash
photography is forbidden. There will be a short intermission. Please remain
seated from this point on and no one will be um, inconvenienced.”
The translating usher hands back
the bull horn and runs toward back stage left, towards the darkened
doorway.
[Arabesque Hand Drums
begin]
The man in the doorway, “Tariq,” holds out his arms from his sides in a scolding,
questioning pose; the usher puts her head down, shakes it and mutters something
to him. She runs into the dark doorway. Tariq crosses
his arms, looks at the commander, smiles broadly at the commander, and then
disappears back inside as well. A small girl, probably eight years old, appears
at the open dark door, wanders outside. The usher, now with her scarf removed,
runs to the door grabs the girl and herds her back into
the darkened doorway.
After the rest of the audience is seated two
events compete for immediate attention:
First, a down center party of a
woman, a child and a man--the last group to be seated—have been directed to sit
where there are already “patrons.” Several ushers with flashlights arrive to
sort it out. House lights fade, somewhat, except for the area around this
seating disruption. Loud but hushed whispers by ushers ask the seated patrons
for their ticket stubs. The usher then asks the newly arrived patrons for their
tickets. The woman hands something to an
usher, “See, looks like 3d, 3e, 3f” [or some such seating designation] “Looks
like we are in the right place?” She smiles.
On stage, the Commander walks to
the edge of the stage to watch the discussion over seating; he gives a “finger
across the throat” signal to the pit. Arabic hand drumming abruptly stops. He signals to several other soldiers two in
the house rear and two from house front rush over to the group of ushers. The
ushers scatter at the approach of the soldiers. One soldier asks the seated
patrons for their tickets, looks at their tickets hands back the tickets. The
standing woman points to the back of the house saying,
“I just gave her my ticket,
where did that usher go? She has my ticket stubs!” Soldier grabs a nearby usher,
pulls her to the front of the row; mutters something to the usher. The usher
asks to see the standing patrons’ tickets. Standing woman explains again, “I
gave our tickets to the usher who just went that way.”
Usher translates to the standing
party: “Madam you and your party will have to go back to the ticket office to
sort this out.”
The woman’s voice begins to
rise, talking slowly and loudly, now to the soldier:
“Listen sir, we will be happy to
go and sort this out. But one of the ushers just asked for our tickets. I will
need those tickets to sort this out at the office. The theater must have double
sold these seats. This is not our fault. Please ask the usher to bring back our
tickets so we can go get this worked out.” She points up the isle toward the box
office.
A soldier grabs the woman’s outstretched arm, pulls her up into the aisle. Her escort begins a protest. Another soldier forces the man to the ground. He is handcuffed, hooded. Their daughter begins screaming. Two soldiers pick up the child and begin to carry her around the other way. The woman is screaming, “Don’t you DARE touch my baby.” The daughter is carried out of the house; as the soldiers bring the child one way, and the other two soldiers bring the parents out the other way, in handcuffs and hoods. Child holds fists above head as she is carried out. [PLENTY OF USHERS REMAIN ON HAND TO QUIETLY INFORM WOULD BE GOOD SAMARITANS THAT THIS IS ALL A PART OF THE PLAY.]
While this is happening, the
commander has moved to the edge of the stage watching the seating problems.
“Tariq,” the man in Middle Eastern attire peers out of
the darkened doorway, looks up and down the street, shakes his head. Tariq walks out to the middle of the street and carefully
straightens the rug. Then he stands up, looks around, and runs behind the corner
of his house, (Upstage
Center
The audience is finally all
seated and the patrol continues while the house lights dim. Commander signals to
soldiers and he walks off stage right.
Four uniformed soldiers walk on
stage. First two reach center stage, near the rug, and they kneel on one knee.
One kneeling soldier faces audience, the other covers the advance of the third
soldier who is peering into the darkened window from stage left. Second soldier
(kneeling) sees Tariq hiding behind the corner,
signals to the third and fourth soldier.
Fourth soldier, “Danny”
signals to third soldier and begins to walk around behind the
house with the door and window.
The first soldier (kneeling and facing the
audience) mutters into his lapel radio,
FIRST SOLDIER: “, uh, Roger, will comply.”
First soldier signals to the
other three. The soldier beside the
window signals back to first soldier by shaking his head, pointing to his eyes.
The two kneeling soldiers stand and move off stage right, leaving one soldier on
stage, still in front of the window.
Weapon at the ready, lone soldier “Sergeant
Benjamin Alexander” moves backwards to center stage. The second soldier appears
behind Tariq, freezes. He brings his weapon to the
ready, pointed at Tariq, who remains unaware of the
second soldier’s presence. Second soldier slowly withdraws behind the corner and
out of the audiences’ sight. Alexander’s weapon is still pointed toward the open
doorway. He pivots and steps onto the center of the rug. As his foot pushes down
into the rug, the stage lights immediately rise, a
mechanical “click” loudly sounds, and a deep bell peals once. All sounds of
distant gunfire and helicopter stop.
Action on stage freezes.
The soldier, Sergeant Ben
Alexander, looks up, around, down at his foot on the rug. Alexander looks back
up toward Tariq, back around the stage and audience,
up at the lights. He can not move his feet. He throws his weapon down beside
him. Not moving his feet, Alexander takes off his helmet and unlaces his boots.
He stands up, looks around, at the sky, and yells,
ALEXANDER: “Sh__!”
Leaving his boots in place on
the rug, Alexander pulls his feet out, walks around the prayer rug in one full
cycle, staring down at his boots.
Tariq
peers from around corner and sings out,
TARIQ: “You’re dead,
American! Say your prayers, you have about half a second to beg forgiveness of
God Almighty, use the moment wisely.”
Tariq steps up on a small wall that separates the alley from the street. His feet seem to stick there on top of the short wall as well. Tariq fumbles with his stuck sandals.
ALEXANDER: “Get your own forgiveness together, Terrorist. We saw you over there. It will just be a moment before you are killed yourself. We saw you hiding. My buddy is right behind you, and he never misses.”
TARIQ: “Terrorist” what words you Americans use. Clicks tongue. Is everyone a terrorist who does not heel at your leash? We are not dogs.
Angry, Tariq pulls his feet out of his sandals and leaves them in
place on top of the short wall. He jumps down on to the stage.
ALEXANDER: “No, much worse than dogs. Dogs recognize those
who feed them!”
TARIQ: leaning over looking at his sandals, tries to move
them with his hands. They won’t budge. Tariq walks
toward Alexander. Alexander follows him with his gaze. While walking toward
Alexander, Tariq looks at Alexander’s boots still
unlaced and sitting on the rug. He stops and looks back at his own sandals; then
he looks up at the audience. Alexander is looking at Tariq’s shoes then back to Tariq.
Grim Laughter. “So I am a dog? Am I being paid to be here
American? Am I being thrown scraps from under the table of American Oil
companies? Do they dress ME up in a pretty uniform, issue ME a weapon, and send
ME to my death in, where is this,
Pennsylvania
ALEXANDER: Reaches his hand up to fiddle with his dog tags,
smiles. “And you are only a couple of seconds behind me Terrorist.” [Laughs] “I wouldn’t want to be in either of
our shoes right now. A guy from my hometown is right behind you, he sees you
hiding.” [Points over past Tariq’s shoes] “You have no
place to run. You are a dead terrorist. I may be dead” [looks up and around]
“but I am a dead hero, a fallen angel.”
TARIQ: Looking
upstage center, walking over to his own shoes, looking over behind the back of
the hiding place, peers slowly around the corner, jumps back as if he sees the
other soldier, looks again, waves slowly at the other soldier, seems to
recognize his own jeopardy. “Ok, Hero. I’ll tell you what. In five years, ask
your family how smart you will seem then. Once your hero bonus money has been
spent, and your country has forgotten about you, and the world has been made
safer for EXXON you will see. Angels do not fall from heaven. But devils do
crawl out of hell sometimes.”
ALEXANDER: “We only wanted to help you people, to remove a
dictator, to make life better for you.”
TARIQ: Loudly:
“Remember ‘Shock and Awe?’ Crusader? Long before you got on this notion of
spreading democracy through the world, giving us a government we could call our
own, you were bombing our cities, murdering our people, accusing us of preparing
nuclear war. You want to make life better for us? Stay home! Mind your own
business. Spread democracy in Washington
D.C.
ALEXANDER: “Maybe we should just fly airplanes into your
buildings?”
TARIQ: Walks toward
Alexander, somber. Faces him, not four feet apart; Tariq takes a long breath, says “Ok, there it is. You are
hitting us back for 9/11, aren’t you? You bloody idiot! You just gave your life
for a cruel mistake. Even your own government knows that we did not fly
airplanes into your sky scrapers. Look at a map sometime. You are dying for a
wrong turn, misinformation, a case of mistaken
identity.” [In a high voice] “We’re sorry, but the number you dialed is out of
service and is no longer available. Would you like to invade
Iraq
ALEXANDER: “The what? Oil for Food? ... I am dying, I, uh, died…to bring you and your family into the modern world…liberty…freedom!
TARIQ: “Yes I know, liberty, freedom, addidas, MacDonalds…Well, that looks better on a tombstone, doesn’t it.” Holds his hands up towards the lights, “Killed in Action in Operation Iraqi Freedom, Fall 2007. It sounds much better than ‘Oops we really screwed up this time.’ Can you hear your funeral now? I can, there is some preacher talking about sacrifice, national need, and patriotism. He has a golf game in two hours, so your family had better handle their grief quickly.”
Both men Laugh…both awkwardly
stop when they make eye contact. Tariq looks back up
stage left; his eyes drift over to his own open doorway.
ALEXANDER: “So where
did a terrorist learn such good English?”
TARIQ: Confused
“English? Never!” spits “So do you have a
family, Crusader?”
ALEXANDER: Looks
Stage Right. Lights rise inside the gauze enabling the audience to see within.
There is a woman and a young girl, on a couch. A door frame faces upstage. Three
military officers, in dress uniform, approach the open door, facing downstage.
The Woman slowly stands. Officers knock. The girl stands, clenches fists above
her head. No emotional expression otherwise.
Lights slowly dim inside gauze, vision fades. Alexander looks down, sits
on edge of stage.
TARIQ: Watching where
the vision had been, looks back at Alexander. Stands behind Alexander, says
quietly “Looks about nine?”
ALEXANDER: delays a
second or two…“She’s seven.”
TARIQ: suddenly
angry, “So what are you doing here, now? You should be there” [points to gauze,
begins crying] “instructing, fathering. She doesn’t want a hero, she wants a
father! Seven! And what about her mother, did she sign off on this ‘Fallen
Angel’ role? Does she get some
special pew at church, with a sign that says ‘widow of dead Crusader?’”
ALEXANDER: “Enough!”
Stands tries to walk away, gets to edge of the stage. Sits. “I don’t know what’s happening here. But I will be
damned if I am going to spend the last seconds of my life listening to this…”
Tariq had followed him, Alexander notices, tries to
stand up again. Tariq, still behind him offers a hand.
Alexander refuses and stands up on his own. Tariq
shrugs, sits down himself.
TARIQ: Sincerely,
facing the audience, “Be very careful, Crusader, how you use the Holy Language
to barter your last seconds. You may well be damned. But God” Tariq looks up “Glory to His Name—is most merciful,
oft forgiving…”
ALEXANDER: “What? ... ” [he looks around again] “What kind
of fuse did you put in that IED anyway? I never expected it to take so long to
die.”
TARIQ: “God, in
his…mercy, apparently, has given us this moment. The fuse was immediate,
Crusader. You are already dead…So, it seems, am I.”
ALEXANDER: “Or maybe we are already in Hell…Feels like
Hell…” Looks around the audience, then at
Tariq, “Looks like hell… you know I only had three
more months on this tour. I have already been here a year…a year in hell. Fair
being fair, I should be on the way home right now.”
TARIQ: “I have a
good idea. You don’t want to be here. We do not want you to be here. US Air can
get you there. Delta is ready when you are. Fly the friendly skies! Back
Home!
ALEXANDER: “Just
walk away from a civil war. Just pull out, cut and run. That would be the height
of irresponsibility.”
TARIQ: “Lets think
about this for a minute, crusader… Do they issue you names? What’s your name?
ALEXANDER:
“Alexander … Benjamin Alexander…Ben”
TARIQ: Counting on his fingers. “Ok Alexander, Benjamin Alexander…Ben, first,
you start this war because you think we have weapons.” [second finger] “You find out that we don’t have the weapons
after all, so you give us a new hand picked government to make up for the whole
‘shock and awe’ thing. Right?” [third finger] “But the new government can’t govern because an
insurgency disrupts everything that has your fingerprints on it, Right?” [fourth
finger] “And the insurgency is able to convince people to assist them because of
the whole ‘shock and awe’ thing. Can you imagine that! In the meantime, you are still here shooting
things up and patrolling our villages.
Did I get all of that right?
ALEXANDER: “We are
only occupying your villages because the insurgency is still fighting.”
TARIQ: Loudly, “The insurgency is only fighting
because the Americans are still here occupying us.” Talking now to the audience, “So to untangle this idiot knot, WHO has to go home ... not me, I was born right over
there.” Tariq
points at the window.
The lights inside Tariq’s house have slowly risen. The mother is seen at the window looking out into the street. Her scarf is now off, her hair visible. Before the lights rise, Tariq’s daughter slips outside again, and is now leaning against the front wall, intently staring at the boots on the rug. Tariq jumps up shouting and waving at the girl who ignores him; evidently, she can neither hear nor see him.
TARIQ: “Back into
the house! Now!, Go!” Tariq
waves his arms in front of the girl but the girl does not respond. “Go Back!
Woman where is your child?” He urgently screams and waves but the girl
does not seem to hear him. Tariq stands between the
girl and the rug, protectively.
The woman, unhurried, walks out into the
doorway. Looks both ways, refocuses on the rug. Pulling her scarf back into
place, she says something to the girl who smiles and runs inside again. The
woman stops smiling and apprehensively looks up and down the street, ignoring or
not seeing Tariq. Then she quickly goes back into the
house. The lights fade inside the house. Tariq stands
watching the lights fade. He walks toward the window, looks inside. Alexander
moves up behind Tariq.
ALEXANDER:
quietly…”So I am not asking about the insurgency. What are YOU doing
here? You can’t think you will win
this war? Shouldn’t YOU be thinking about being a father, not a
terrorist?”
TARIQ: Tariq notices that Alexander is behind him looking into the
window, also. Tariq begins walking away in a wide arc,
trying to draw the soldier away from his house. “Win? ...WIN?” “What do you Americans think wars are? Baseball games, football games? You don’t win a war. Best one can do is to
survive the loss of a war, since everyone loses…” Looking at the audience,
shaking his head… “You Americans really should read history books!”
ALEXANDER: “Ok, point taken…but why do YOU plant IEDs and kill Americans. Not them…” Alexander points down the street. “I mean YOU, why you? Did we do anything to YOU?”
TARIQ: Slowly, “American, I AM those people” points down the street. Hitting his own chest, he screams “THAT is who I AM. The object of your ‘shock and awe…ME…right here! ... in there!” points inside the window. Stops, with his hands out to sides now, quietly, “No, we can’t win this war. Neither can you. But my people might survive it. That beautiful little girl in there MIGHT survive it! And when you finally do go home…and you will…” laughs and then cries, “when those of you who survived it go home…finally… then we will have outlasted you…those of us who do survive.”
“So what is YOUR rationale? Why are YOU here to die in a
place you should never have been? YOU, Ben
Alexander.”
ALEXANDER: Walks
back over to the rug. Walks one full turn around it saying… “I don’t know…trying
to survive too, I guess… Listen, we are stuck here waiting for something. When that fuse goes, I am dead. When the
device blows, Danny is going to fill you with bullets. You won’t survive
either.” He continues walking around the rug. Suddenly, he Stops. “Go into the
house!”
TARIQ: “What?” Tariq stands,
watching Alexander.
ALEXANDER: Pushes
Tariq towards the house. “Go in the house and do not
come out!”
TARIQ: “What are
you…” Tariq goes just into the doorway. He watches while Alexander
finds his helmet, straps it on, steps into his boots, he laces them up. Alexander picks up his weapon, makes jumping
motion. His feet still won’t move.
ALEXANDER: “Stay
there. Don’t move. When you hear the explosion, stay put! Don’t go outside until
many other Americans arrive. Comply with their demands and admit nothing! Stay in there…with your family. Stay with your
family.” Alexander keeps jumping, but feet won’t budge.
[Lights Fade:
Arabesque Drums]
[But just before house lights come back up the
Arabic Drums turn into a roll on a snare and a march being played. Drum Fades.]
Intermission
Act II: Similar Street Scene. (Perhaps a palm is replaced
by a pine.)
Lights rise on a small patrol of British Red
Coats, Grenadiers. One Drummer beats out the march as they march across the
stage. The commander orders halt and left face. The patrol now faces the open
doorway of the house. The sergeant (Same actor as Alexander) is sent to knock at
the door frame. Turl, (same actor as Tariq) dressed in Colonial American attire (leather
breeches, boiled shirt with long bow tie, and a leather apron) comes to the
door. Standing in the doorway, Turl looks at the
patrol and then at the commander.
COMMANDER: Sharply marches to the front of the detachment
to make a pronouncement. “You, sir. Do you deny that your name is Turl Allen?”
TURL: Steps out of
his doorway. Turl’s daughter steps into his place in
the doorway. “I, sir, make no such denial! M’ name is Allen. If I may ask, why
do ye trouble one of his Majesty’s loyal subjects? Not, because ‘is name be
Allen?”
COMMANDER: “We have good information, sir, that may stir wonder at this your claim of loyalty.
Smithy services to seditious insurgents, is the purpose of this call, I’ll
warrant. I demand you pronounce, here and now, your intention to live by your
oath of loyalty to His Majesty King George, Sovereign by God, or to those
rascally dogs starving, even now, at Valley Forge . By
God, speak man! And be measured in your choice!”
TURL: “My choice has been made, as witnessed by these
neighbors and the warrants already executed under threat of lost liberty. ‘Is Majesty is my lawful Sovereign and I
‘is loyal subject. I’ll have no allegiance to curs of
any sort, be they of four legs or two legs beneath red top coats. Me smithy
services are for honest men, who gladly pay me for my efforts. And those efforts
are wanting while I pass the day at my door, correcting malicious rumors from
drunken spies with fresh coin and large imaginations.
COMMANDER: “You are aware of the consequences, good day to
you sir.” Commander bows, nods to drummer who starts a cadence. “March!” The patrol moves stage left. Before the patrol is
entirely off stage, the commander places his hand on Danny’s shoulder and
signals him to move behind Turl’s house to keep watch.
Danny departs from the patrol, takes up a position behind the house, out of
sight of the audience.
[Drums Fade]
[Lights fade on stage. Lights rise inside the house.]
Turl appears at the open door
several times. He looks up and down the street; then he disappears back inside
the house.
Two men approach the home from stage right. They walk past the house. Stop. Turn. One
stands in the middle of the road watching; the other goes to the front door. He
Knocks.
Turl appears at the door. The audience can hear whispers and mumbling. Turl looks both ways. Turl and the man at the door go inside. Several seconds later, the man emerges with several cloth bags, apparently full. He splits the load with the other visitor. Turl is standing at the doorway. The two men walk off stage right with their bags. Just then, Danny emerges from behind the wall and levels his bayoneted weapon at Turl. Startled, Turl raises his hands and steps out of his house. Lights fade to dark.
[Hold Full Dark for seven seconds.]
TARIQ: Laughs, “That
won’t work, Crusader.
[Stage Lights Come up. With no scene change indicating the
setting is back to
Iraq U.S.
Sergeant Alexander, with Helmet on and weapon at the ready is still trying to trip the IED. Tariq is watching him from his doorway. Tariq (back in a long shirt, Arabic style) turns abruptly and walking back toward the wall, says,
Sergeant Alexander, with Helmet on and weapon at the ready is still trying to trip the IED. Tariq is watching him from his doorway. Tariq (back in a long shirt, Arabic style) turns abruptly and walking back toward the wall, says,
TARIQ: “But it was a
nice idea, very touching…yes,” stops, turns toward Alexander, says “thank you…
But everything has to be back in place, EXACTLY back in place. The future
emerges only out of the EXACT present. And the present falls out of the EXACT
past. So we only have this one little moment, just a little bit before right
now…There is no past… and no right now, quite yet… just this little, bloody
eternal, moment in the middle….” Looks up at audience, says “you know?” Then he
looks down at his sandals, looks back at the audience and says, “There wouldn’t
be a phenomenologist in the house, would there?”
Tariq walks toward the wall where
his sandals are still waiting, looks at his shoes for a long moment. Tariq stops, turns to the audience and holds out his hands,
palms up. “Of course, YOU could fix this
with the flick of a few million little switches.” Throwing his hands towards the
audience, mumbles something inaudible. He takes a heavy breath. Tariq steps up on the wall, turns; he looks down at his
sandals again.
Tariq steps into his shoes slowly. Before he pushes his
second heel down, he looks up to Alexander. Alexander looks back at Tariq. The lights flash out. In the dark, an explosion on
stage is immediately followed by automatic rifle fire, smoke, screams, a groan,
helicopter sound, a child’s cry, rapid gunfire in the distance. As the stage lights come back on, “Danny” the
soldier behind the house is jumping over the wall, running toward Alexander, who
now lies in the middle of the street. Tariq lies in
front of his house. His daughter runs out into the street, drops to her knees
beside her father.
The girl shows no
emotion, just a hard stare at “Danny.” As
stage lights drop, only a small spotlight is left on the girl. She brings her
two fists above her head and holds them as the spot fades to a dark stage.
[Arabesque
drums]
When the stage lights
rise again, the soldiers are moving across the stage with some prisoners in head
scarves. They stop and bow to the audience. They spread apart. The Wife and the
Commander, still in Colonial and British dress, come in from stage right. They
bow. From back stage left the girl, holding the hands of both Tariq and Alexander, walks up to the center and bows. Then
whole group bows.
[Arabesque drums
fade].
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