Authors: Lorraine Hansberry
Final Text Adapted by
Robert Nemiroff
Directed by
John Berry
Scenery Designed by
Peter Larkin
Costumes Designed by
Jane Greenwood
Lighting Designed by
Neil Peter Jampolis
Ritual Dances Created by
Louis Johnson
Sound Created by
Jack Shearing
Script Associate
Charlotte Zaltzberg
Drummers
Ladji Camara, Charles Payne
Production Stage Manager
Martin Gold
General Manager
Paul B. Berkowsky
Five minutes before curtain time the sounds of the African bush are heard stereophonically around the audience from the sides and rear. They begin quite softly: sounds of crickets, frogs and “bush-babies,” the occasional cry of a bird and “laughter” of a hyena. The stage is open, the outlines of the Mission can be seen in silhouette, and from a cyclorama, enveloping the stage, emanates the gray-green glow of African twilight. During the next five minutes the cyc will gradually change to deep blue-black with an occasional star
.
The sounds of the bush grow louder and, after about three minutes, we hear drums, at first sporadic, from speakers on the sides being answered by drums on the other sides. These are not at all the traditional “movie drums” but distinct, erratic and varied statements of mood and intent. They get louder and just before curtain, as the houselights go to black, they reach a crescendo which moves up through the audience with a rush to the speakers on stage
.
Suddenly there is silence. A
WOMAN
,
majestic and motionless, appears. Black-skinned and imposing, cheeks painted for war, about her waist a girdle of hammered silver, she does
not
wear a “sarong.” From her wrists and ankles hang bangles of feathers and silver which provide their own staccato accompaniment as she begins to dance. The unearthly “laughter” of a hyena is heard. She advances slowly, majestically, to mounting drumbeats, in an unmistakable dance of the warriors
.
Downstage, planted in the earth, is a spear. At the climax, she pulls it from the earth with great strength and raises it high
.
Blackout
In the darkness the sound of a river-boat whistle is heard several times in the distance and—abruptly—brilliant, almost blinding sunlight envelops the stage, and the sky turns intense blue
.
It is mid-afternoon at a Mission compound in Africa
.
On the veranda downstage
,
DR. MARTA GOTTERLING
is examining a small black
BOY
.
She is a handsome, blond, self-assured woman in her mid-thirties, in surgical gown, white headcloth and stethoscope. Several
A
FRICAN VILLAGERS
squat in the dust awaiting their turn
.
PETER
enters from over a rise upstage, followed by
CHARLIE MORRIS. PETER
,
an African porter in shorts and undershirt, is a man of late middle years, with graying hair and a profoundly subservient manner. He is barefoot, bareheaded and carries two heavy valises
.
CHARLIE
is an American in his late forties. He wears a pith helmet and carries a battered portable typewriter and attaché case
.
As they come on
,
CHARLIE
hangs back the least bit, as if to fix the scene in memory
.
PETER
goes directly up the Mission steps and sets the valises down with relief
.
PETER
(
Singsongy
) You wait here, Bwana. You sit, make self cool. Doctor be with you soon.
(
CHARLIE
notes the man’s excessive subservience with disapproval and hauls out a couple of coins
)
CHARLIE
All right, thanks … er—?
PETER
Peter, Bwana.
CHARLIE
Thanks, Peter.
MARTA
(
Calling out—she is listening to the African child’s chest
) Hello there. I shall be with you in a moment.
PETER
You sit, be cool. (
CHARLIE
pays him and he backs away, out the door and down the steps
) Thank you, thank you, Bwana! Doctor be with you soon. Soon, Bwana. Thank you.
CHARLIE
Yes, I’m sure. Thank you. Thank you. (
As the man disappears
) Peter, old man, you have seen one “Bwana movie” too many.
(
He pushes his hat back and stands with his fists on his hips looking about in the usual manner of a stranger in a new place, then crosses onto the veranda
)
MARTA
(
Looking up
) Mr. Morris? We’ve been expecting you. I’m Doctor Gotterling. Marta Gotterling. Welcome to the Mission. (
To the
BOY—
examining his eyes, ears, throat during the following
) Open up.
CHARLIE
All the comforts of the Mayo Clinic.
MARTA
(
Smiling
) We manage.
CHARLIE
What’s wrong with the boy?
MARTA
Just a little tonsillitis.
CHARLIE
That all? I was rather expecting a rare tropical disease!
MARTA
(
Smiling
) Rare tropical diseases are also rare in the tropics! I’m sorry Reverend Neilsen isn’t here to greet you. He had to go cross river.
(
She gives the boy an injection and a comforting pat
)
CHARLIE
Oh? Well, it’s just as well I get the feel of the place first. What’s happening cross river?
MARTA
Among other things, a wedding, a funeral, twelve baptisms …
CHARLIE
Twelve—that’s rather a handful even for the Reverend, isn’t it?
MARTA
They are done
one
at a time, Mr. Morris! (
Leads the
BOY
across to his
FATHER
,
one of the Africans, and holds up a vial of pills
) Give him this—let him chew one—three times a day. Understand? Chew—
FATHER
Chew.
MARTA
(
Indicating with fingers
) One—three times a day. Any first impressions, Mr. Morris?
(
She motions to the next patient, a young
WOMAN
,
to follow her, as
FATHER
leads the
BOY
off
)
CHARLIE
Well, yes. I was a little curious … Isn’t the—(
He hesitates
)—lack of sanitation here somewhat of a problem?
MARTA
(
Amused
) “Sanitation,” Mr. Morris? You mean the dung—goat dung? (
She takes the patient’s pulse
) Actually it’s less of a problem than too
much
sanitation. Here we have to give up some things for others. The African feels much more at home with goats and chickens wandering about the wards. The wards are huts. Their own families cook the meals. It’s the only way they’d come. (
To the patient
) Breathe in. Out. (
She demonstrates and the
WOMAN
follows suit with great seriousness
) In. Out. Please help yourself to a drink. (
She hands him her key ring and indicates cabinet
)
CHARLIE
Thanks, I can use it.
MARTA
Yes, I’m sure. (
Continuing the examination
) Sorry, no ice.
CHARLIE
(
At cabinet
) At this moment it would be beautiful even right out of the bottle! (
He pours and drinks, closing his eyes to savor
) After a day and a half on that mailboat, Doctor, there is
nothing
as good as scotch—without ice! (
Opening eyes
) But tell me, how do you manage without refrigeration? I thought that most drugs—
MARTA
We improvise. You’ll see. (
With curious pride
) No refrigeration, no electricity, no phones, television, cinema …
(
NGAGO
,
an African, enters swiftly, whispers to the
WOMAN
,
and both suddenly run off, followed by the others
)
Wait!
CHARLIE
What was that?
MARTA
(
Shrugs
) Mr. Morris, I’ve been here five years and I’m afraid I still have a great deal to learn.
CHARLIE
Well, you’ve got the best possible teacher. It’s been my impression—in fact, the world’s impression—that Reverend Neilsen is practically one of the natives himself by now.
MARTA
Not really one of them. More like their father. Like our father, too. We are
all
his children.
CHARLIE
What’s he like, Doctor?
MARTA
What’s he like? He’s everything you’ve heard. When Reverend Neilsen came here forty years ago, he came with a particular great idea—
CHARLIE
(
Finishing it for her
)—and it is the idea which remains important?
MARTA
(
Nodding
) Here the native should feel that the hospital and the church are a part of the jungle, an extension of his own villages. (
Looking at him intently
) I hope you will stay long enough to fully understand what he has done here.
CHARLIE
(
With his own meaning
) I would like to stay a long—long time, Doctor. (
A beat. Returning the keys
) Your keys. How come all the locks?
MARTA
Now why would you suppose, Mr. Morris? (
A little laugh
) You know, the most difficult thing for Americans is apparently the discovery that the whole world doesn’t share the West’s particular moral concepts—private property, for one. If you have any valuables, you must keep them with you or under lock and key. (
CHARLIE
looks at her oddly. She responds with disarming directness
) Oh, I know what you are thinking, but we have had to get rid of prior notions. We cannot romanticize the African. There is too much work for that.
CHARLIE
Well, I do have a lot to learn, don’t I?
MARTA
If you are open-minded, you will learn it and be deeply rewarded. I can promise you that. I know, because—
CHARLIE
(
Finishing it for her
)—because
you
have been. Doctor, you give me the extraordinary impression of being a happy woman.
MARTA
(
Lightly
) Yes. Something went “wrong” in my life, Mr. Morris: it has been unutterably satisfying!
(
DR. WILLY DEKOVEN
enters, a slight, deeply browned man in surgical dress, without pith helmet
)
DEKOVEN
Marta—
MARTA
Oh, Willy, good. (
She pronounces the
“W”
in middle-European fashion—with a
“V”
sound
) This is Mr. Morris from the United States. Dr. DeKoven.
DEKOVEN
How do you do? Would you have a look at Keito, Marta? I would like your opinion.
MARTA
(
Starting out quickly
) Of course. (
To
CHARLIE
,
charmingly: a hostess as much as a surgeon
) Excuse me. I know you don’t believe it, but we really will send someone sooner or later to show you to your room.
(
Without warning there are several loud rifle shots offstage. They spin around
)
RICE
(
Offstage
) I think the other one went through the trees!
CHARLIE
What the hell was that?
(
MARTA
stiffens and closes her eyes and as promptly regains composure
)
MARTA
I’ll see to Keito.
(
She exits
.
MAJOR RICE
enters hurriedly—a Colonial Reserve Officer in his fifties
)
DEKOVEN
What were those shots, Major?
RICE
(
To
CHARLIE
) Who are you?
DEKOVEN
Major Rice of the Colonial Reserve. Mr. Morris, from the United States.
RICE
Oh, Mr. Morris. I have been looking forward to this. How do you do, sir?
(
Extending his hand
)
CHARLIE
How do you do? What’s going on, Major?
RICE
(
Ignoring the question
) Come to do a piece on
our
“New World,” eh? No place on earth like it.
CHARLIE
What’s happening?
RICE
(
To
DEKOVEN
) Is the Reverend about?
DEKOVEN
No, he went cross river. What were those shots, Major?
RICE
We flushed out a couple of terrorists in the bush. I think one used to work around here.
CHARLIE
(
Incredulous
) Terrorists—
here?
We’ve had no news—
DEKOVEN
(
Dryly
) The authorities think it helps for some reason if the world doesn’t hear about it.
CHARLIE
It’s not just—well—an outbreak of banditry or something?
RICE
(
Cutting it short
) One tends to think not, Mr. Morris, if nothing is stolen. And nothing is. Except guns. (
SOLDIERS
enter with a prisoner, hands tied behind him, face bloodied, whom they prod to his knees. He is the
FATHER
seen earlier
) I’d appreciate your help in this, Doctor.
DEKOVEN
(
With sudden sharpness
) Yes, I’m sure you would!
RICE
This one—(
Jerking the prisoner’s head around
)—I believe he’s worked here, isn’t that right?
DEKOVEN
I really couldn’t say.
RICE
Or wouldn’t?
DEKOVEN
(
Evenly
) I don’t know the man, Major.
RICE
(
Eyeing him
) I hope that we don’t all have the enormously illuminating experience of being butchered in our beds thanks to your selective memory, DeKoven! (
He motions to the
SOLDIERS
to take the man off. They exit
) As you can see, Mr. Morris, we’ve got a bit of an emergency going here. May I ask that you let me have
a look at any dispatches you send out? You understand, I’m sure. (
He turns to follow
)
CHARLIE
No, I’m afraid I don’t.
RICE
(
Turning back
) All the same, would you mind?
CHARLIE
Yes, I would mind.
RICE
(
A beat
) Well—I hope you enjoy your visit.