*In the River was given its premiere performance in June, 2010, by the Source Theatre, Washington, DC.
AT RISE
Pin spot on a Man in a business suit. There is an earth colored piece of cloth lying on the floor from the rear of the stage to the front edge. The man stands in the middle of the cloth. His suit is black. He has a mustache. He has dark hair and dark glasses. He pours a container of water over his head and then lies in the middle of the cloth. He begins to float as if in a river. His floating carries him to the left bank of the river where two lovers are fondling one another. He bumps into one of them.
Girl:(Jumping up with a start) Holy mother of God. What’s that?
Boy:What’s what where?
Girl:There, in the river. Oh, Christ. It’s a body.
Boy:A dead pig?
Girl:No, it’s a man. Oh, I think I may be sick.
Boy:Just a minute. (He pulls the body to shore) You're right, Vesna, it is a man.
Girl:Is he dead?
Boy:(Placing his hand over the body’s mouth, then putting his ear against its chest) Yes. Would you believe it? I mean, here in Skopje? A drowned man in the Vardar. I’ve never heard of such a thing. There isn’t enough water in the Vardar to drown a housefly.
Girl:Has he been dead long?
Boy:How would I know. His body is cold and stiff.
Girl:I’m going home.
Boy:They will not believe this when I tell them: I pulled a dead man from the Vardar. Even I don’t believe this. You’d think a man his age would know how to swim.
Girl:Who is he I wonder. Oooo, don’t touch him again. He’s filthy. Which hand did you use to touch him? Oooo, you’re not touching that hand to me again, not ever!
Boy:He’s fully clothed. He must have been walking along the bank and lost his balance. Maybe he just needed a swim.
Girl:In the Vardar? In the filthy Vardar, going for a swim? It’s horrid. I can’t look at it any more. (But she cannot take her eyes off the body) Who is he?
Boy:There are no papers. Nothing.
Girl:He’s an Albanian. See his tiny black mustache? An Albanian, I’m certain.
Boy:I believe you’re right.
(They back away from the body)
Girl:What should we do? Call the police? Report this?
Boy:Is that our duty?
Girl: I don’t know.
Boy:(He looks at his right hand with scorn) I cannot believe that I touched an Albanian! A dead Albanian!
Girl:The only kind of Albanian that’s worth anything. The dead kind (She spits in the body’s direction). Yesterday as I walked home from school, a carload of Albanians yelled at me, called me bitch, and threw filth on my shoes.
Boy:I can’t believe I touched it. Ah, I’ll bathe for a month to remove the stench.
Girl:I’ll go for the police. You stay here—
Boy:No. They’ll say we killed him and then what will we do?
Girl:We have no reason to kill anyone.
Boy:That makes no difference. He’s Albanian. They’ll say we killed him and then his relatives will find our houses and burn them down. They will find our relatives and slit their throats. (Leaning over the body) Look at him. I think I know him. He’s the slime who dumped shit on our front steps during the war. I recognize the slope of his forehead. I don’t remember his name, but I remember what he did. He’s earned his reward. He’s dead! Thank God.
Girl:I haven’t been so close to an Albanian before. He seems so—
Boy:We mustn’t report this. It’s best to leave it alone.
Girl:—so like us. . .
Boy:There’s only one thing to do. Let someone else find him and take the blame. (He shoves the body back into the river and it begins to float away) I need to bathe.
(As they are leaving and lights change)
Girl:You’re not touching me again.
Boy:I’ll shower. I’ll shower twice. I’ll be clean again.
Girl:But to think that your hands touched a dead Albanian. . .
(The body floats as if to the other bank of the river. Two women are washing clothes. The body brushes against one.)
1st Woman:Oh, do you see this?
2nd Woman:Garbage, garbage, more garbage.
1st Woman:It is a man, sister. (They pull the body out of the river) In the name of Allah, this man is dead.
2nd Woman:Where did he come from?
1st Woman:That way. Ah, poor man, he drowned. Allah, to die such a death. Who do you think he might be?
2nd Woman:He might have identification. Check him to see.
1st Woman:He is dead. I couldn’t touch a dead man, Merie. You see.
2nd Woman:(Rifles through the dead man’s pockets. She pulls a wallet from his vest) Oh. Ohhhhh. Would you look? This man was so rich!
1st Woman:A Macedonian. (She spits)
2nd Woman:Oh, but look, sister. Five, six, seven hundred denar. Oh, so much money. It weighed so much it dragged him into the Vardar, don’t you see?
1st Woman:It’s all wet.
2nd Woman:And it will dry.
1st Woman:Is there a name in the wallet?
2nd Woman:Who cares about names? He is a Macedonian— (She spits) And deserved for the Vardar to eat him. Praise be to Allah for bringing his riches to us, dear sister. Tonight, inshallah, we will eat the same as the Vardar. As good if not better.
1st Woman:But Merie, we can’t take his money.
2nd Woman:Does he need it any longer? And his clothes. Does he need his coat and pants and shoes any longer? I don’t think so, unless you think he’s going to walk home after his swim. Help me. (She is stripping the body)
1st Woman:But he’s covered in mud.
2nd Woman:I know how to wash muddy clothing.
1st Woman:And wet.
2nd Woman:Like the money, the clothes will dry. Please, help me.
1st Woman:But he is dead, Rajna.
2nd Woman:Of course he is dead, sister, as we will all be in time, inshallah. My husband says it is his kind, Macedonian pig (She spits)… that has caused my little ones to go to bed hungry the last two years. My husband tells me that it’s his kind (They both spit) that scorns us and ridicules us as dirty stinking beggars. Now it is our turn. Vardar has provided as she always does.
1st Woman:But he is a man.
2nd Woman:My husband would call him a heap of trash, a dead cow, a nothing. Help me.
1st Woman:His hands are cold. He has been in the river for some time. He is young, like Fahmir. He could be our brother, Merie.
2nd Woman:But he isn’t. He is Macedonian. My husband tells me they all deserve to die.
1st Woman:But like this?
2nd Woman:Death is death, sister.
(By now they have stripped the body, leaving his underwear and socks)
1st Woman:We should call the emir and report his body—
2nd Woman:And have him lay claim to these beautiful clothes and the pocketful of money? No. These shoes will serve my eldest very well indeed. And the coat and pants will fit your man, and you tell me: does Mitko need them or not? We will feast tonight and tomorrow and the next day, thanks to the kindness of this stinking Macedonian. My husband would agree: the only good thing this man did in his life was drown so we might eat as Allah intended. Inshallah. (Shoves the body into river) Don’t say anything about this, sister. If Mitko asks, we found these things lying on the bank of the river, a gift from the Vardar. Only we will know that there is one less Macedonian we must kill ourselves. I am going home. Are you coming?
(She leaves. 1st Woman watches as the body floats away, then she, too, leaves. Lights change as the body floats down the river toward the Aegean Sea. Lights rise. We see an ancient fisherman and his granddaughter on the river bank. The fisherman’s hook snags the body and he begins to pull it to him.)
Fisherman:Ah, ha, my little wren, I told you the fish would bite tonight. I’ve hooked a carp for sure. (He is tugging with a great deal of effort) Or maybe Jonah’s whale! Come to eat the two of us alive!
Child:What is it, Da da?
Fisherman:I can’t tell. Whatever it is, it isn’t fighting. It must be a log or something. Here, help me.
(The two of them pull the body to shore)
Child: Oooo, Da da. It’s a man.
Fisherman:I can see that, Stasia.
Child: And he’s not moving. Maybe he is dead?
Fisherman:I can see that as well. Drowned.
(By now the body is ashore at their feet)
He’s been dead for a long time. The fish have used him for breakfast.
Child: Oh, I’ve never seen a dead man before.
Fisherman:You shouldn’t look. It will give you bad dreams.
Child:No, it won’t. Oh, he must have been handsome when he was alive. Look. He was married.
Fisherman:(Removing the wedding band) He’s too young to die of natural things.
Child: You think he was. . .
Fisherman:Yes, someone hit him on the head and dumped him into the Vardar for us to deal with.
Child: Who would kill him?
Fisherman:They do that sort of thing in Skopje. This one hits that one so that one’s brother hits back and the cycle continues. Damned scum in Skopje. They’ve no idea how to treat one another. They dump their refuse into the Vardar and poison us down stream with no remorse. With not a single thought.
(He tries to put the ring on his finger but it is too small) This is for you.
Child: (Taking the ring) But Da da, it will be years before I need a wedding band.
Fisherman:I didn’t mean for you to keep. Sell it. It will make you rich. So rich, you can buy me a decent breakfast and have enough left to get you a doll or two.
(He searches the body for anything else of value)
Child:(Reading the inscription) “To my beloved, 2/2/01.” He was married. He probably had children. I wonder if I have played with them.
Fisherman:He has floated to Taor all the way from Skopje. Do you know anyone in Skopje, Stasia?
Child: How do you know he’s from Skopje? He could be a farmer between there and here.
Fisherman:Look at the man’s belly. Only in Skopje do they eat well enough to grow a belly like that. Damn the politicians there. They keep us starving so they might grow fat and lazy. Let them all rot in hell.
(With this, he pushes the body back into the river)
Child: No, don’t, we must bury him. Call the police and return him to his wife and children.
Fisherman:He has his grave, the grave he has earned. The Vardar will bury him. Damn stinking politicians.
He turns and leaves. The Child watches as the body floats away down stream. After a moment, she tosses the gold wedding band into the river and leaves. The lights change. The body stands, wrapping itself in the cloth that has defined the river until he is completely draped. It sinks to the floor, wearing the river's swaddling clothes. Lights out.
END.