Alyssa's+Play

By Alyssa T. Osiecki
 * Together We March **

Setting: Cairo, Egypt, 2011

Characters:

Akila: A bright, intelligent, rebellious 16 year old Egyptian girl.

Abasi: Her 20-year-old brother. Very protective of her.

Mother: A university professor and single mom.

Her Grandmother: Old fashioned, religious, very loving.

Braikah: Akila’s best friend from school.

Nasra: A university student.

SCENE 1:

// (Lights up on a typical teenager’s bedroom in an apartment in Cairo, Egypt. An unmade bed is at center stage. A rumpled school uniform is tossed on the bed. There are magazine cut outs of rock bands plastered on the walls. The sound of the song // Clampdown, //by the Clash fills the air. AKILA, dressed in typical Western punk rock duds; black jeans, converse sneakers and a T-shirt, sings along loudly. Her hair is uncovered and loose around her shoulders.//

AKILA: //(Singing along to the song lyrics)// Anger can be power! Don’t you know that you can use it...

// (A pounding on the door.) //

ABASI: //(off)// Akila!

AKILA: Don’t you know that you can use it!

// (Music fades, she sings along just as loudly, pumping her fist.) //

AKILA//:// Don’t you know that you can use it!

ABASI: Akila, open up this door immediately! //(He continues to pound. She hears him, and dances to the door, still bopping to the music with her headphones on. She opens the door, and continues dancing.)//

AKILA: Geeze, Abasi, chill out.

ABASI: What’s going on in here? Why didn’t you open the door?

AKILA: Relax, I couldn’t hear you, that’s all.

ABASI: It’s a wonder you aren’t completely deaf by now, listening to that garbage.

AKILA: Hey, The Clash isn’t garbage, it’s one of the greatest punk bands of all time.

ABASI: //Punk// bands? Where are you getting all of this music from?

AKILA: Some of the kids at school...

ABASI: Of course. I don’t know why mom and dad sent you to that stupid international school. Clearly it’s a bad influence of you.

AKILA: //(Cheekily)// If you call learning to speak fluent French and getting to meet kids from all over the world a bad influence then sure, guilty as charged.

ABASI: You know, sometimes you really disgust me.

AKILA: I think you’re just jealous. //(She continues to dance around the room, ignoring her brother.)// You were the one who wanted to go to that stuffy old religious academy anyways. //(She imitates the voice an mannerisms of a stuffy old professor.)// You must pray 5 times a day... your academic achievements will bring glory to you from Allah.

ABASI: //(Grabbing her suddenly.)// Stop it, that’s heresy.

AKILA: Sorry. I was just joking.

ABASI: Well, it wasn’t funny. You should learn to have a little more respect for your culture, Akila.

AKILA: It’s kind of hard to sometimes when your culture is stuck in the //dark ages.//

ABASI: Now you sound like one of those ridiculous //children// I have classes with over at the University. Always going on and on about oppression and revolution.

AKILA: It’s not ridiculous.

ABASI: Oh please, you should see them, they know nothing about real oppression. It’s all just play-acting so they can feel good about themselves.

AKILA: Well I for one am glad people are finally taking a stand.

ABASI: Taking a stand? A few protest marches isn’t taking a stand. It’s a little field day for University students who will soon grow weary of it and move on to the next glamorous cause. If they encountered any real resistance they’d just lie down and cry for their mothers. I’d like to see that.

AKILA: This isn’t just a game, Abasi. It’s about the future of Egypt, it’s about our country.

ABASI: Akila, you are young and impressionable. When you’re my age you’ll see that things aren’t all that simple and that a few young hooligans throwing a temper tantrum won’t change history.

AKILA: You can’t talk to me that way, I’m not a baby.

ABASI: Straighten yourself up and come to dinner. Mother and grandmother are waiting.

AKILA: //(turning from him.)// I’ll do what I want, when I feel like it. Get off my case.

ABASI: //(A loving plea.)// A good Muslim brother looks after his sister. You’re straying from the path Akila, for the sake of your soul, straighten up and do right before it’s too late.

AKILA: //(Hostily)// I don’t need looking after. Now get out of my room.

ABASI: //(Coldly)// And cover your hair before you come to the table. You look like a disgrace.

// (He turns and leaves the room. AKILA looks after him with a forlorn face.) //

SCENE 2: // (A few days later, AKILA and her best friend BARIKAH, are walking home from school. They are in uniform, carrying their books and giggling.) //

AKILA: You should have heard him //(imitating ABASI)//, “A good Muslim brother looks after his sister, blah blah blah..” //(They giggle.)//

BARIKAH: What’s his problem? Remember all the fun we used to have when we were little? He’s gotten so uptight since he went off to University!

AKILA: We used to laugh for hours. Do you remember the little puppet shows he used to do for us?

BARIKAH: Yeah, and how he’d carry us on his shoulders so we could see the parades? I was so jealous of you. You had the best big brother ever!

AKILA: You had a crush on him!

BARIKAH: Did not!

AKILA: Did too! Ugh, it was so annoying.

BARIKAH: Well maybe a little. He was so sweet. And funny... and cute...

AKILA: //(Makes gagging noises.)// Well now he’s just a giant stick in the mud. I swear, they make you turn in your sense of humor at the university gate...

// (The sound of a protest march in the distance.) //

BARIKAH: Hey, what’s all that noise?

AKILA: //(Excited.)// Must be one of those protest marches we’ve been hearing about on the news. Want to go check it out?

BARIKAH: Sure! //(reconsidering)// But... I shouldn’t. I have a lot of studying to do and my mom gets worried if I don’t come straight home from school.

AKILA: Come on! We’ll study later! This is history happening as we speak. Don’t you want to witness it? Take a stand? Like we talked about?

BARKIAH: I do but...

AKILA: But what?

BARKIAH: Honestly, it’s a little scary. Remember all those protests in Iran last year? Things got violent. A girl died...

AKILA: That’s why it’s so important that we do something. Come one, we’ll go for a half hour. If things get scary we’ll leave. Are you with me?

// BARIKAH is silent. //

BARIKAH: I’m sorry, Akila. I’ll see you in school. //(She turns and exits.)//

// ( A PROTESTER ENTERS, holding a sign.) //

AKILA//:// Excuse me, are you going to the rally?

PROTESTER: I’m on my way, you can come with me if you like. Do you go to the university? I’ll be marching with the Democratic Students’ Society.

AKILA: //(Lying poorly.)// Umm... yeah. I’m a first year.

PROTESTER: Me too, but I’ve never seen you before. Is this your first rally? You look a little nervous.

AKILA: Well... I...

PROTESTER: You can stick with my group if you like. We’ll look after you. If the police start to tear gas us use your scarf to protect your mouth and your eyes and try not to breathe in. If we get separated we’ll meet up again at the student union at ten. I’m Nasra, by the way.

AKILA: Akila.

NASRA: Nice to meet you, Akila, let’s get moving.

// AKILA and NASRA continues on with determination. The sound of the protest gets louder and louder. She moves downstage, and begins chanting and pumping her fist. Sounds of protest become deafeningly loud. Lights become very bright, then blackout. Sounds of the protest fade. //

// SCENE 3: // // (AKILA’S apartment. It is late. Her mother waits for her on a well-worn couch. AKILA enters, attempting to sneak back to her room in the dark. She sneaks directly into MOTHER. ) //

MOTHER: //(Quietly.)// Well, where have you been? No lies, Akila, I don’t have any patience for that right now. My nerves are worn enough as it is.

AKILA: I was at the protests today. Things got a little intense and...

// (MOTHER gasps and runs to her. She embraces her and looks her over.) //

AKILA: There were streets closed off... The buses weren’t running...It took longer to get home than I expected...

MOTHER: Your eyes are bloodshot. Did the police spray tear gas at you?

AKILA: Only a little. It wasn’t that bad.

MOTHER: Did anyone lay a hand on you? I swear to God...//(She begins to cry.)//

AKILAH: No mom, I’m fine, I’m fine mom. //(They embrace. Mother sighs and sits on the couch.)//

MOTHER: You can’t know what it’s like, sitting here in the dark, not knowing if your only daughter is alive or dead.

AKILA: //(Rolling her eyes.)// Mom...

MOTHER: Don’t patronize me, Akila. I’ve been around a little longer than you, I think I know a little more about what can go wrong. I called Barkiah’s parents, they had no idea where you were. Your brother is still out looking for you. Your grandmother’s been locked in her room praying for your return all evening.

AKILA: It was just a protest rally, mother. It was really peaceful, mostly.

MOTHER: You have no idea how quickly those things can get out of control. Last year a girl not much older than you was shot by the police at a protest in Iran. She bled to death there in the street while people stood around and watched it happen.

AKILAH: //(begins to cry, hugs her mother.)// Oh mom.

MOTHER: Before your father passed away, Akila, we had a long conversation about how you and your brother should be educated. Your brother took a more traditional path. But for you, my bright, adventurous girl, we knew you needed something different. So we sent you to an international school. Please tell me we didn’t make the wrong choice.

AKILA: Mom! No! This has nothing to do with school!

MOTHER: We raised you to be intelligent and think for yourself. I went to university and eventually became a professor there. I didn’t want you to be a sheltered housewife. I wanted you to have all the opportunities I had, and more, much, much more. But perhaps I’ve been a bit too relaxed in your upbringing. You put yourself at risk today, if I’d been a bit more strict you may have made a better choice.

AKILA: Stop it mom, you sound like Abasi!

MOTHER: Perhaps Abasi has a point.

AKILA: You and dad taught me to stand up for what I believe in. Now it’s time for me to do it.

MOTHER: Listen to me, Akila, these protests can get ugly. People die, go to jail, or are taken away by the government are never heard from again. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of this. You are too young to lay down your life for a passing cause. Please promise me, no more protests.

AKILA: Mom, don’t be such a hypocrite! I know you and dad were politically active when you were young.

MOTHER: That was different! We were in college. And if I’d had any idea what I’d put my mother through by doing it I might not have gotten involved. Please promise me you’ll be a good girl. Go to school, study, go off to University.

AKILA: I can’t make any promises, mom. When the time comes, I have to act my convictions. Dad would have supported me.

MOTHER: Your father would have wanted you alive.

AKILA: But he wouldn’t have wanted me to be a coward.

MOTHER: Do you still have no idea what you’ve put your family through tonight? Go to your room, Akila, I can’t stand to look at you right now.

// (AKILA begins to EXIT.) //

MOTHER: And while you are at it, stop at your grandmother’s room and kiss her goodnight. I think she’d like to know that her only granddaughter is alive.

// (AKILA EXITS silently. MOM remains on the couch, heaving a heavy sigh. LIGHTS SLOWLY FADE.) //

// Scene 4: //

// (Several days later. AKILA is hard at work, scrubbing a stain out of the living room carpet. She listens to a British announcer on BBC World News on the radio reporting on the protests in Egypt. ABASI ENTERS.) //

// (ABASI turns off the radio.) //

AKILA: Hey! I was listening to that!

ABASI: It’s garbage, all lies cooked up by the west to make the Egyptian government look bad.

AKILA: Don’t tell me you believe all that! Mubarak is a dictator and the Egyptian people are sending him the message that we want him out! I’d be out there right now telling him myself if mom hadn’t put me to work.

ABASI: You think you’re so smart with your little stunt, running off to the protests yesterday, nearly giving grandma a heart attack. You don’t think for yourself, all you do is follow the masses. What do you think is going to happen, democracy? The people out there only know how to riot and complain. They know nothing about how to govern themselves. How do you know anything about being a true Egyptian? You’d have us be a little clone of a Western country. That’s what they teach you to think in that fancy school of yours.

AKILA: You wouldn’t know anything about that. You’d prefer to be stuck in the past.

ABASI: You go to school with all these foreigners, French, German, American, you think you’re one of them. Look in the mirror girl, at your dark hair, the shape of your nose. You aren’t one of those flimsy Western Girls, you’re an Arab woman, a Muslim woman, time to start acting like one.

// (AKILA gets up, goes to the radio, and switches it back to the BBC coverage. She stares defiantly at ABASI. He crosses to the radio and turns it off. She goes to turn it back on but her grabs her hand.) //

ABASI: While mother is at work, I’m the man of the house, and I say we won’t have filth and lies in our home.

AKILA: You think you’re a man? If you were you’d have been out there standing up for your rights yesterday. You should have seen how beautiful it was, hundred of thousands of Egyptians standing up with dignity and telling Mubarak that we’re ready for Egypt to be great again and if he won’t lead us down that path then we want him out. And in a small way, I was a part of it. I was a part of something bigger. For the first time in my life I was //proud// to be Egyptian. If father was still alive he’d have been out there and you know it.

ABASI: Don’t talk about our father.

AKILA: Why, because you’d be such a disappointment to him? Our father was a brave man and you’re nothing but a coward, hiding in the past.

ABASI: I’m out of here. //(He picks up his backpack, a leaflet falls out)//

AKILA: So you can go out, but I can’t?

ABASI: Some of us true Egyptians are making a stand for a real solution to our problems.

AKILA: If not to protest, then what? //(Angrily//) Don’t tell me you’re one of those thugs who start fights with the protesters so that the police can tear gas people. Some of them threw rocks at us yesterday.

ABASI: We’re more than that. We’re not going to allow Egypt to fall into the hands of chaos and rioting. AKILA: By hurting people? Dad would be ashamed of you. //(She goes up to him and quietly gets in his face.)// You’re not like him and you never will be.

// (He slaps her. GRANDMOTHER hears the ruckus and enters.) //

AKILA: //I hate you! I hate you!//

GRANDMOTHER: What’s this? Akila you ought to be ashamed of yourself! There were nine children in my family, we all lived together in a one room house and got along. We’d never say we hated each other. Apologize to your brother.

ABASI: I don’t need an apology from //her//. I’m going out grandmother, I’ll see you at dinner.

// (ABASI EXITS. AKILA clutches her cheek and cries.) //

// GRANDMOTHER: // Now then, it can’t be so bad, what did your brother say to you?

AKILA: You wouldn’t understand.

GRANDMOTHER: //(Crossing to the couch, cradling AKILA as if she was a child.)// I had three older brothers. I think I know a thing or two about getting along with men.

AKILA: He was angry at me for going to the protests. And he’s always bossing me around. I can’t stand it.

GRANDMOTHER: Well he’s right about that. The streets are no place for a young lady. When I was your age I couldn’t leave the house unless I was escorted by one of my brothers.

AKILA: //(Defiant)// And you think things were better back then?

GRANDMOTHER: Perhaps they were. But perhaps not. Times are different now. When I was a girl life was simpler, but I didn’t have all the opportunities you have. There was no French speaking school for me, that’s for certain. When your mother was your age she told your grandfather and I she wanted to go to University. We didn’t try to stand in her way.

AKILA: You couldn’t have stopped her anyways.

GRANDMOTHER: //(with a chuckle)// That’s probably true, she’d have found a way whether we liked it or not. You have her same irrepressible spirit. I see so much of her in you. When we told our friends we were sending your mother to university people thought we were mad to let a girl be educated. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we //weren’t// mad. But nothing happens if God doesn’t will it. We were certain Allah had a plan for us.

AKILA: Did he?

GRANDMOTHER: Of course. Your mother was never happier than when she was in University. She met your father there. And it brought us you and your brother.

AKILA: What if God’s will for you is to do something very important that other people don’t understand? What if you have to break the rules to carry out His purpose?

GRANDMOTHER: Oh, Akila, I’m an old lady, not a theologian. I can’t pretend to know what God’s will is. I do know that he gave you a sound mind and a good heart to make decisions with. Use it wisely, girl.

AKILA: I will. //(beat)// What’s all that noise outside? //(She runs to the window, looking downstage and out in the audience. From the wonder on her face we see what she sees.)// Grandma! The streets are flooded! I see hundreds of people... thousands! It’s the March of Millions they were talking about on the radio this morning. The opposition is holding a million person rally in the square today! And it’s not just students, like Abasi said, I see men in their work boots mothers with small children, even old ladies like you, grandmother... come look!

// (GRANDMOTHER joints AKILA.) //

GRANDMOTHER: Why, never in my life have I seen such a thing!

AKILA: The radio announcer said that the military has vowed not to fire on the people. It’s safe out in the streets today! Look, I see a family with two little children, marching hand and hand! //Please// can I go grandmother? If little children are out there it must be safe!

// (MOTHER enters in a whirlwind.) //

MOTHER: Phew! It’s a circus out there! the university cancelled classes today because of the protests. I thought I’d never make it home. The streets are jam-packed!

GRANDMOTHER: Are you all right?

MOTHER: Yes, I’m fine. To tell you the truth, it’s like a festival out there. People are chanting and waving flags, why I saw a woman with a great big pregnant belly and another small child up on her shoulders, marching along with everyone else! AKILA: Please can we go down mother? It’s a great day for Egypt. I want to be there. //We// should be there, together, as a family. Let’s say we were all there the day our country stood up and said no!

MOTHER: Get your coat Akila, we’ll go together.

AKILA: Horary! //(She runs to get her coat.)//

MOTHER: Where on earth is your brother? I know he’ll want to come with us, if only to keep an eye out for us.

AKILA: I don’t know. He went out. //(Changing the subject.)// Come on, let’s GO!

// (MOTHER and AKILA begin to leave the apartment. GRANDMOTHER stands up and puts on her wrap.) //

MOTHER: And just what are you doing?

GRANDMOTHER: You two think you’re going to leave me at home to miss all this excitement? I may be old but I still want to see it with my own eyes!

AKILA: //(Runs to her and puts her arm around her.)// Come on!

// They EXIT. //

SCENE 5: At The Protests

// (The sounds of the protest fill the air, there is chanting and the singing of nationalistic Egyptian songs. AKILA, MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER march happily hand in hand. ABASI ENTERS, furtively clutching his book bag. He is up to no good and looking guilty about it. AKILA sees him and catches his eye. MOTHER and GRANDMOTHER do not see him. AKILA motions for ABASI to join them but he turns away as if he does not know her.) //

AKILA: Mom, I see somebody I know from school. Can I go say hi?

MOTHER: Yes, be careful, Akila.

// (ABASI is trying to get away from AKILA, she runs after him, grabbing him by the shoulder.) //

AKILA: Abasi! I knew you’d understand! Mother and grandma are here too…come march with us--

ABASI: Get away from me, Akila.

AKILA: What?

ABASI: You don’t know me and I don’t know you, get away from me.

AKILA: I don’t under---

// (NASRA and two friends from her student group enter.) //

NASRA: It’s him!

// (The two friends grab him and begin punching him.) //

AKILA: //(Running to Nasra.)// Nasra, no! Tell them to stop!

NASRA: He’s one of those traitors! This one was throwing rocks at us yesterday, trying to insight a riot so the police can say the protesters are violent.

AKILA: There must be some mistake.

NASRA: It’s no mistake. This man in the worst kind of coward, turning on his own brothers to serve a corrupt government. //(to her friends)// Let’s make an example of this one guys, and let them know the Egyptian people are not to be toyed with.

AKILA: Abasi, are you OK?

NASRA: You know him?

ABASI: No, I’ve never seen this girl before, she’s nothing to me.

AKILA: He’s my brother. And I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt anybody.

NASRA: Akila, you’re so naive. People like him are the reason why protesters are being captured by the police and tortured. We must teach him a lesson. Is he really your brother?

ABASI: I told you, this girl has nothing to do with me!

NASRA: Brother or not, we’re at war now. And you must pick a side. It’s evident that //he// already has.

AKILA: I can’t stand by and watch my own brother be beaten.

NASRA: Fine then, we’ll leave him be for now. But don’t expect to come back to us either. You may not be throwing rocks at us, but showing this traitor mercy makes you no better than him in my book. Come on guys. //(The friends drop ABASI to the ground, NASRA and the friends EXIT. AKILA runs to ABASI, who is clutching his stomach, badly hurt.)//

ABASI: I told you to stay away from me.

AKILA: You’re my brother, I’m not going to leave you.

ABASI: Earlier you said you hated me.

AKILA: I was mad, we were both mad. //(She begins to help him up.)//

ABASI: I’m fine, I can do it myself. I can’t believe you even want to help me after all I’ve said and done.

AKILA: Just let me help you for once. Come on, let’s get you home.

// (ABASI leans on AKILA and the two of them begin to limp home. Light fade, sounds of protest fade.) //

SCENE 6: back home

// (Back in the apartment. ABASI is lying on the couch recovering, covered in a blanket. MOTHER and GRANDMA are doting on ABASI, re-arranging his pillows and serving his tea. AKILA is nearby, watching.) //

ABASI: Really mom, I’m fine, you don’t need to serve me my tea.

MOTHER: I’ll serve you tea if I want to serve you tea. You have three cracked ribs, the doctor says you have to lie still if you want to heal properly.

GRANDMOTHER: What kind of thugs would beat up a good boy like you, Abasi? Did you get a good look at them?

// ABASI and AKILA share a knowing glance. //

ABASI: I have no idea who they were. It all happened too fast.

GRANDMOTHER: Well, you’re safe at home now. I’m going to go start dinner.

MOTHER: And I’m late for work. Look after your brother while I’m out, Akila.

AKILA: I will.

// (MOTHER and GRANDMOTHER EXIT.) //

ABASI: What I can’t understand, Akila, is how you’ve managed to forgive me.

AKILA: You made a bad decision, we all screw up sometimes.

ABASI: I more than screwed up. I went out into those protests looking for fights. I threw rocks and chunks of concrete at innocent people just to antagonize them. I saw decent people beaten by the police because of things I did. And one those decent people could have been you. As it is I already helped harm somebody else’s brother or sister. I thought I was behaving with honor, but it turns out it was the furthest thing from that. And my little sister, the one I thought knew nothing, stood up with dignity, without resorting to violence and anger. You didn’t abandon me when I needed you. I learned from you that day what courage really looks like. It isn’t rocks and fists, it’s doing what’s right even if it isn’t popular. What I did was inexcusable. I am so, so sorry.

AKILA: You were trying to stand up for what you believe in. I get it, even though I don’t agree with you, I get it.

ABASI: No more violence. I still don’t agree with everything the protesters stand for. I think outing Mubarak without a plan in place is a dangerous idea, a recipe for chaos. We need a government with good strong values to step in for him. But from now on I refuse to raise my fists to see it happen.

AKILA: You know, it’s funny, you couldn’t find two people with more night and day views than the two of us, but here were are, sipping tea and discussing it rationally. Why the hell is that so very hard?

ABASI: I don’t know.

AKILA: Well I want to do something about it. Dammit, I wish I wasn’t so young. I hate feeling like I can’t make a difference. If I was already at University---

ABASI: Wait, that’s it.

AKILA: What?

ABASI: I’m already at university. When I get well I’ll petition to start a student group where Egyptians from all walks of life can get together and discuss their points of view, //rationally.//

AKILA: We can write reports on our ideas, circulate petitions, maybe even present our ideas to the government!

ABASI: Whoa, don’t get ahead of yourself kid.

AKILA: Well, somebody’s got to change the world, it might as well be me.

ABASI: //(With admiration.)// My sister, the radical.

AKILA: //(With equal respect.)// My brother, the moderate.

ABASI: Akila, do me a favor and turn on the radio. I’ve been stuck lying on my back on this couch for days. I have no idea what’s going on in the world.

// (AKILA obliges, crossing to the radio and turning it on. The Clash’s “Train in Vain” plays softly. Lights slowly fade on ABASI and AKILA, chatting animatedly.) //

AKILA: We should call it, “The Egyptian Action Committee”...

ABASI: No, that sounds too extreme...

AKILA: What would you call it then, “Old Fuddy Duddies Making Suggestions”?

ABASI: //(Good naturedly.)// Shut up! // (They continue to talk. “Train in Vain” gets louder. Lights fade on the tableau of the brother and sister, talking on the couch.) //

// END OF PLAY //