I love more than anything being able to post short plays by other writers, being able to give them a slightly different and broader audience than they would have had without this blog.
This play by George is both incredibly different from Wonderful You! and also similar in it's big themes and classical influences. Both relevant in its exploration of our modern wars, while hearkening back to our classic stories and celebrations of violence and war. It is constantly amazing to me how much can fit into a tiny twenty minute play with a simple set and few props.
I hope you enjoy this play as much as I have, and if you would like to talk to George about it (and potentially producing it) please email me at erinkellyb@hotmail.com
Thanks again George!
Here is some information about the play from the playwright:
Glorious Victory Street was written a few years ago for an event called Challenge Theatre and performed at Sixth at Penn Theatre in San Diego. The challenge included a time limit of twenty minutes, a set theme ("war and quiet flowers"), and a required prop (a book). Julie Sachs played Sama, Jude Evans played Sammy, and Nick Mata played Haslit. George Soete directed. The play is a variation on the first act of Wagner's Die Walkure, in which a man and woman slowly discover they are brother and sister and eventually flee from the woman's husband and home; later they conceive a child, Siegfried, the great hero of Wagner's Ring Cycle.
GLORIOUS VICTORY STREET
A PLAY BY GEORGE SOETE
Near twilight. Talad, Iraq. Inside a humble one-room house. Two chairs and a table. Frenzied music begins, fades out under initial action. Sammy enters exhausted, dirty, in dark, dirty clothing. He staggers to a chair and sprawls, immediately starts to go to sleep. He jerks awake.
SAMMY
(Weakly.)
Help me! Please help me.
He begins fading again. Falls asleep. Sama enters with a flashlight and a gun. She is dressed in a slip.
SAMA
I'll kill you. I will. You! I know you are awake. I'll kill you.
SAMMY
Water. Please. Water.
SAMA
I'll kill you.
SAMMY
Don't kill me. I didn't break in. There was no lock on the door. I need to drink.
SAMA
I have a gun.
SAMMY
Please give me some water. Put it on the floor. I'll come and get it. You stay over there with the gun.
SAMA
My husband will be home soon. Why should I give you water?
SAMMY
Your husband is Haslit.
SAMA
How do you know that?
SAMMY
I have it in the book. And you are Sama.
(He holds up a tattered address book.)
SAMMY
I have your name and his. I know you both. Water. Please.
SAMA
How do you have our names? How do you know us? Who gave you our names?
SAMMY
Water first. Please don't say no. I'll die. Right here. You don't want me to die.
She looks at him for a moment. She reaches behind her and gets a small pitcher.
SAMA
I'll leave it here. You come and get it. Very slowly.
SAMMY
Thank you.
He gets up. She moves back while he moves forward slowly. He falls on his knees at the pitcher, drinks all the water, spilling some. He sits back.
SAMA
Back to the chair.
(He moves back to the chair.)
SAMMY
Could I have more?
SAMA
That's all I have, until morning, when I can go to the well.
SAMMY
I drank all your water.
SAMA
Until morning. My husband will be home soon.
(He has fallen asleep again in the chair.)
SAMA
You! Wake up!
He does not respond. She looks at him intently. Moves closer. Looks more closely at his face. Moves a hand close to his face. Something melts inside her.
SAMA
You and I. Who are you?
She lowers the gun. Walks backward and puts it on the table. She takes a rag, goes to the pitcher, upends it on the rag; a little water comes out and moistens the rag. She moves to him, stands behind him, presses the rag on his forehead.
SAMA
Who are you?
Lights slowly to black. When the lights come up, she is on the other chair. He is still sleeping. She watches him. He stirs. She flinches but remains seated. He wakes up, slowly. She holds a bowl toward him. He takes it, their hands touching. Both are visibly affected. He slowly pulls away and begins eating the food with his fingers. They are watching each other.
SAMMY
You're not afraid?
SAMA
I must be crazy.
SAMMY
No. You are not crazy.
SAMA
Who are you?
SAMMY
Samuel Grace. U. S. Army. Sammy Grace. And you are Sama.
SAMA
Yes. Why have you come here?
SAMMY
You forgot to say that your husband will be home soon.
SAMA
My husband is gone. He is a soldier.
SAMMY
I know.
SAMA
How do you know all these things? Our names, where I live.
SAMMY
(Holding up an address book.)
It wasn't easy. I had to bribe someone who knew how to find you in the census records, then locate this town. Talad. I found the town, then the street. Glorious Victory Street.
SAMA
Look around you. Do you see any glory? Has there been any victory in this horrible war? All I see is dry earth, dead things.
SAMMY
I've been on a quest. Just getting here, across the desert....
SAMA
Only fools travel to Talad. It has been forsaken by Allah Himself.
SAMMY
Then I am a fool. I have deserted my post. I've nearly died of thirst. I haven't eaten for days. I have become an outlaw. But I have found you.
SAMA
Who have you found?
SAMMY
The daughter of El Garhi.
SAMA
How do you know this?
SAMMY
Is it true?
SAMA
Yes. I have nearly forgotten him.
SAMMY
No one could ever forget him. He was great. A great man.
SAMA
What does his greatness mean, now that his daughter is left for dead in this squalid place, in the middle of a war, hated by everyone?
SAMMY
Not by me.
SAMA
You will learn to hate me. You will. Everyone does.
SAMMY
(He reaches out a hand. She takes it.)
Never.
Lights dim to black. Lights come up on Sammy, asleep on the floor. Sama is gone. Pause. She enters from outside in a shabby dress with the pitcher. She places it on the table. Stands regarding him.
SAMA
Soldier?
(He starts with a cry, sits up.)
SAMA
I'm sorry.
SAMMY
I thought it was wolves.
SAMA
There are no wolves here.
SAMMY
There is only you.
SAMA
Only me. I've brought you some water. Now it's daylight, you can drink your fill.
She indicates the pitcher. He struggles to his feet and approaches the pitcher. He staggers. She catches him. A tense moment between them. She backs away in embarrassment, gets the pitcher and hands it to him. He drinks. He leaves some for her this time. Holds the pitcher out to her.
SAMA
I drank at the well.
(He puts the pitcher back on the table.)
SAMMY
How long have I slept?
SAMA
Well into the morning. It was safe to go out. The bandits are night creatures; they are all asleep now.
SAMMY
Are there bandits here?
SAMA
And worse. Desperate soldiers who have deserted. There is no law here. Only appetite. I brought some bread.
She retrieves a bit of bread from her dress pocket and gives it to him. He eats it ravenously. When he has swallowed it all, he looks back at her.
SAMMY
I'm sorry. I ate it all.
SAMA
Don't worry. I had a croissant and a latte at Starbucks. Madonna says hello.
SAMMY
(Stares at her, then catches on and laughs.)
How long since you've eaten?
SAMA
That's not important.
SAMMY
Do you know who I am?
SAMA
I am afraid to know. I am afraid to have you here. There is a war. You are the enemy.
SAMMY
You have taken in the enemy.
SAMA
Yes, God help me.
(Pause.)
Who are you?
SAMMY
You know me. I was born on a farm. My family raised goats. Chickens. We grew vegetables. My father was burnt by the sun, and my mother worked at his side. From dawn to dark. At the end of the day, my father read the Koran and my mother prepared the meal. My sister swept the floor. And I did my maths. We milked the goats and made cheese. We sold the eggs. Once a week, each of us had an egg. Boiled. Once I helped my father slaughter a goat. On holy days, we sat under a tree and thought about heaven. I went to school. When I could. One room for all the village sons. My sister did not go. These things were reserved for boys.
When I was seven, I was taken away by an uncle, taken to America. The day my uncle came, I could hear him and my father bargaining for me in the middle of the night. My father said how sturdy I was and how strong I would become. He said I was learning to read. That I would soon be able read the Koran. My uncle pointed out that he was relieving our family of a great burden. I remember saying goodbye to my family. My father was solemn. My mother cried. My sister ran and hid. I found her and gave her a final embrace. I told her I would come back.
SAMA
If war is horrible, if anything is horrible, it is because of separation. Bullets kill you quickly. An instant of pain. Separation kills you over and over again, every day.
SAMMY
In America, we lived in the city. My uncle drove a taxi and his wife worked in a candy store. That's what it was called. A candy store. Can you believe it? A shop filled with nothing but sweets! I went to school. A proper school. My uncle taught me Arabic so that I could read the Koran. This was my only tie with my family.
SAMA
When I was seven, I was promised to a man named Haslit. I also heard the bargaining. The price for me was settled at two goats. At nine, I was taken to live with his family in Tikrit. This I will give him: he did not take me to bed until I was fourteen. Before then, I worked for his mother and his sister. I praise their names every day. That is another small joke.
(He laughs a little.)
I cannot say they were cruel. They simply treated me like any servant. You scream at servants, and you slap them. Because they are stupid and willful. I worked from dawn to dark. Haslit ignored me all this time. To him, I was a servant. When he took me to his bed, there was a small change. He was his mother's darling, and I was now his wife. I no longer slept in the kitchen. His sister treated me no better, though now I was able to hold my own with her. She stopped slapping me.
The lights dim to black. When they come back up, they are in the same chairs, but they are closer to each other. The effect should be that they have been talking for a long time.
SAMMY
I was in college at fifteen. My aunt got me a job in the candy store, sweeping up and restocking the candy. The rest of the time, I was in school, or on the way to school on the city bus, or on the way home from school, or preparing for school. My uncle and aunt gave me every support. I think they may have loved me. My uncle called me his son. At first, he was careful to explain to others that I was his brother's son whom he had adopted. After a while, I was simply his son. But it was not the same as my own family. I could not forget my father. And my mother. I could not forget my sister.
SAMA
I was fifteen when Haslit gave me a child. A daughter. His mother and sister could barely conceal their contempt. I hid from them and that was fine because they left me alone with my daughter, who was beautiful. When the little girl caught a fever and died, there was a kind of rejoicing in the house. I grieved and they rejoiced. I swear it. They thought: now the servant girl can get on with the real business of being a wife, producing a son. But something dried up in me. I produced no further children for them, boys or girls. They hated me even worse. I begged Haslit to take me away. He brought me to this place. To this house. Then he went off to the army.
SAMMY
I studied computer science. Day and night. I knew nothing about people, but I could make a machine jump through hoops. I joined the Army. My family thought I was crazy. They begged me not to go. They knew I would be sent here. They asked me, how could I come back to this part of the world? I only knew I had to. I was alone in the Army. An Arab. All around me there was nothing but hate. I was left alone, but I was hated. I was surrounded by people. Alone.
SAMA
He went off to fight, leaving me a little money and the gun. I was here alone. No family. No friends. I still have no friends here. I barely know anyone's name. They know me as the silent woman who shows up at the door and will scrub their floors in exchange for a little money. It is a wordless commerce: I work, they give me a few pennies, and I leave. Otherwise, I stay inside these four walls. I sleep. And I scrub my own floor until it is spotless. I have a bowl and a spoon. One dress. Shoes with holes. At the end of the day, when the other women are cooking, I am able to wash in the public bath.
SAMMY
They sent me first to Afghanistan. I was a translator, an interpreter, a decoder, whatever a good Arab boy could do. Then they sent me to Baghdad. When my tour was up, I begged to stay. There was unfinished business.
SAMA
I was nearly raped, but I remembered the gun. He ran. Word must have got out. In this place, I am the crazy one. I am the woman who has a gun. No one has bothered me since.
SAMMY
I have never been with a woman.
He reaches his hand out, touches her cheek, holds his hand there. She swoons into his caress, sighing. Lights down. When the lights come up, he is asleep again on the floor, in his underwear. She stands in her slip, looking at him. The rest of their clothes are on the floor.
SAMA
Soldier. Sammy.
(He starts awake.)
SAMMY
(He screams as he awakes.)
There are snakes!
SAMA
There is only me. You must go. If anyone saw you come in here, they will kill you. They will kill me. It's dark now. You can slip away.
SAMMY
I don't want to go. Do you want me to go?
SAMA
I don't want trouble. I've had enough.
SAMMY
Tell me you want me to stay.
SAMA
You cannot stay. What would you do? Would we scrub the floor together? Even though I have a gun, these people will descend on us and murder us. It is better that we separate now, that I lose you now. Not later.
SAMMY
I cannot leave. I love you.
SAMA
You do not love me. I have not been loved since I left my family. I am used to hate. Why should you be any different?
SAMMY
You know why.
SAMMY
He holds his hand out to her. She hesitates, then takes it. He draws her to him. They embrace passionately. They look deeply into each others' eyes. They explore each others' faces. They kiss.
A loud knock.
Hide. Quickly.
He picks up his clothes and runs off to another room. She puts on her dress and gets the gun. Another knock. A voice.
HASLIT
Why is there no lock on this door?
SAMA
I have a gun! My husband will be home soon! Get out!
HASLIT
When I left here, there was a lock on this door! Only prostitutes leave their doors unlocked!
He appears in the doorway. He moves to the chair that Sammy has used. Slumps and closes his eyes. In the following scene, his initial manner is tired, unfocused. As the truth of the situation dawns on him, he refuses to acknowledge it.
HASLIT
(Almost gently.)
You have lost weight. How do you expect to have a son when you are so thin? We must get busy and make children. After I sleep. I have been traveling all day. I am so tired. I have killed. The killing has wearied me. I am so tired.
SAMA
Haslit, my husband. You are now in your home. Now you may sleep. It has been lonely here without you.
HASLIT
Lonely. You are not lonely. My mother and sister are here to keep you company.
(Sama remains silent. Pause.)
Where is my mother? Where is my sister? Are they at the well? Are they washing clothes?
SAMA
I wash the clothes. I draw water from the well.
HASLIT
My mother and my sister. Where are they?
SAMA
They are not here.
HASLIT
What do you mean, they are not here?
SAMA
Haslit. They had to leave. They were called back to Tikrit.
HASLIT
(Opening his eyes and sitting straighter.)
Called back to Tikrit. When? I just came from Tikrit. They were not there. How is it possible that they would cross the desert to return to Tikrit? Why did you not go with them?
SAMA
You must have passed them. They left yesterday.
HASLIT
They left yesterday. This is very strange. Why were they called back to Tikrit?
SAMA
There was a death. A man came and told them there was a death in Tikrit.
HASLIT
A death in Tikrit. A man said there was a death in Tikrit. There are always deaths in Tikrit. Who died?
SAMA
Your cousin.
HASLIT
My cousin. Amir?
SAMA
Yes, I think that was the name. Your cousin Amir.
HASLIT
My cousin Amir. Are you sure it was my cousin Amir?
SAMA
Yes, now that I hear the name. It was Amir.
HASLIT
I am sad to hear this. My cousin Amir and I were like brothers. When we were little boys, we walked to school together every morning. I shall miss him. What did Amir die of?
SAMA
He was shot. A stray bullet, I think.
HASLIT
A stray bullet. You think. It is a dangerous world. There are too many stray bullets in this world.
SAMA
Too many.
HASLIT
If it isn't a stray bullet that kills you, it's a lie. It seems there are more lies than bullets these days. Both can wound you, kill you. I was saying this to my cousin Amir when we shared a meal in Tikrit just the other day.
SAMA
You shared a meal with Amir?
HASLIT
And to hear now that he has been shot and killed by a stray bullet. And that my mother and sister have gone to Tikrit because of this death. And that I have missed them. I feel a terrible separation. What if they also are hit by stray bullets? What if they are murdered with lies? We must leave immediately to go to Tikrit and be with them. Protect them.
SAMA
Perhaps it was another cousin. I've lost my memory for such things. My thoughts have been confused.
HASLIT
Perhaps it was. Perhaps your confused mind has created these events.
SAMA
I have been confused. It has been lonely here.
HASLIT
You may put the gun down, Sama. It is your beloved husband, Haslit. You have nothing to fear.
(She keeps the gun on him.)
HASLIT
I said you could put it down. Put it down.
She turns away slowly to place the gun on the table.
HASLIT
You know it is a sin to lie to your husband. Have I not always been good to you? Protected you? And now I think I am hearing lies. My mother and sister did not go to Tikrit, did they? My cousin Amir is still alive, isn't he. I don't deserve lies. You know that lying to your husband is a sin. You can die for such a sin. Do you know that you can die for such a sin?
SAMA
Yes, Haslit. I know that.
HASLIT
What has happened to my mother and sister?
SAMA
I don't know. I woke up one morning and they were gone. Suddenly.
HASLIT
Gone. Suddenly gone. How could that be?
SAMA
I had a quarrel with them, and the next day they were gone.
HASLIT
A quarrel. What was the quarrel about?
SAMA
I told them they could not slap me again. I told them I would leave. Run away.
HASLIT
You can't run away from your husband's family. You know that. (Pause. He does not move.) Let me see the gun.
She retrieves the gun and gives it to him. As he is opening the chamber...
Two bullets missing. Why are two bullets missing?
SAMA
Someone tried to rape me. I shot him.
HASLIT
You shot him. Twice. There was a death in this house. There was a body. What did you do with the body?
SAMA
I buried the body, behind the house, at night. He was a deserter. No one will miss him.
HASLIT
You shot him twice. And then you took the body outside. At night. And buried it. I must see the grave.
(He moves as in a dream, slowly, to the back of the hut. Looks out the window. A long pause as he takes in the truth.)
I see two graves here. Why are there two graves here? Two have died here.
(He turns, screams, clutches himself in a ball, comes downstage. He cannot breathe. Finally, he is able to talk.)
You have killed them! You have killed my mother and my sister! You killed them and dragged them out of the house and buried them like common criminals! You are shame itself!
SAMA
I have done nothing to be ashamed of.
HASLIT
You will be damned forever.
SAMA
It wasn't a hard choice, my husband. Damnation here or damnation there. I chose peace. Two days of peace.
HASLIT
And now you will die, and you will plunge into hell fire!
He draws a knife and starts toward her. Just as he is about to plunge the knife into her breast, Sammy appears behind him with a knife, grabs him by the throat, and cuts deep into his jugular. A spurt of blood.
HASLIT
Allah is merciful!
He falls dead.
SAMA
What have you done? What have you done? You've murdered him.
He cups her face in his hands. The blood on his hands is smeared on her face. During the next scene, they kiss and caress passionately.
SAMMY
Just as you murdered them. Murder has freed us!
SAMA
Free? We'll be hounded until we ourselves are found and murdered. We'll undergo the most horrible pain until we finally die.
SAMMY
Look at me. Look at me. Don't be afraid. I am Samir. I am your brother. I am now your husband. I have you in my arms. I love you, my Sama. We will never be separated again. If we die, we'll die together.
SAMA
Samir, my brother.
SAMMY
Sama, my sister.
SAMA
My husband.
SAMMY
My wife.
SAMA
All these years I thought about you. Samir, you have never left my thoughts.
SAMMY
All these years I could not stop thinking about you. I had to find you.
SAMA
You made me a promise. I was hiding under the table, a stupid girl, and you found me. You promised me.
SAMMY
I promised you. I came back.
SAMA
Now we are both murderers. We must flee. Quickly. There is a witch in this terrible place. She will know everything that has happened.
(She is looking around the room for things to take with them. She picks up the pitcher. He takes it from her and casts it aside.)
SAMMY
Hurry! Leave everything behind. We'll have only each other.
SAMA
Samir, my husband! I carry your son inside me. I know he is there.
SAMMY
As despised as we are, he will survive our shame and he will be great. He will be a peacemaker. Now we are free!
SAMA
Yes, my Samir. Yes.
SAMMY
From now on, the night will be our day. The moon will be our sun. Twilight will be dawn for us. The poisoned earth will bear the most beautiful fruit. Evil will blossom into good. Come with me now, and greet the crescent moon!
SAMA
The crescent moon!
Tableau. They stand at the apron of the stage as moonlight bathes them in a silver glow. Ecstatic music. When the music ends, abrupt blackout.
END OF PLAY
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