TSHEMBE My … father …!
PETER We meet in the forest within the hour.
(He turns to go, followed by NGAGO. Abruptly, TSHEMBE throws the bark back)
TSHEMBE I am not interested in killing. Anyone. Especially harmless old missionaries and their wives.
PETER (Nodding) Nor I. But they are a part of it.
TSHEMBE They sing hymns and run a hospital!
PETER An outpost. Within the hour, Tshembe.
(He starts off)
TSHEMBE Ntali, wait! You know Kumalo is coming home? (PETER halts, nods) For talks—
PETER There has been enough talk. The Council speaks for the people. Not Kumalo.
(He turns to go)
TSHEMBE But this is what the people have been fighting for—to force the settlers to negotiate …
PETER There is only contempt in their “negotiations.”
TSHEMBE (Crossing to him) Ah, but also fear, cousin … fear! These are new times, man. All Africa turns against them—the world turns against them! Your great spears have pushed them to the table. Now keep them poised—but steady!
PETER (Abruptly, to end it) Too late. Too many have died.
TSHEMBE But for a reason! Perhaps now no more need die. Think, Ntali: you have only some rifles and the great spears of our fathers … Give Kumalo his chance.
PETER (Bitterly) His chance—for what? To trade white overseers for black!
TSHEMBE Amos Kumalo is no puppet—
PETER No, of course not. But will he control the Army? The mines? His own ministers? (Shaking his head) A government office … a government car … a white government secretary to warm his bed—“who fears the lion after his teeth are pulled?” No, Tshembe. When we drive out the invader, we will have peace. Only then.
(He and NGAGO start out)
TSHEMBE Ntali, hear me! (He sighs and does not even look at them as—wearily, the words coming almost automatically—he assumes the burden in spite of himself) I will go to Zatembe—to speak with Kumalo. I will tell him the mood of our people. I will tell him the settlers have one season to grant our demands … One season, Ntali …
PETER We have waited a thousand seasons—
TSHEMBE Then what can it hurt to wait a thousand and one?
PETER (Conflicted) You understand, we are determined to rule? (TSHEMBE nods) By whatever means necessary …
TSHEMBE (Slyly reversing the emphasis) By whatever means necessary …!
PETER (Studies him, then looks to NGAGO, who nods almost imperceptively. With the slight edge of wonder and the faintest smile) Tshembe Matoseh, the Wanderer—who has come home with the white man’s tongue … (Searching his eyes) I hope you do not have his heart … (A beat) I will speak to the Council.
(Without warning, NGAGO suddenly vanishes—as ABIOSEH approaches over the rise. TSHEMBE draws PETER aside and indicates ABIOSEH)
TSHEMBE Aren’t you going to try to recruit him?
PETER We do not recruit—Europeans.
(He exits)
ABIOSEH What did he want?
TSHEMBE What did he “want”? He came to remind us that we are supposed to be our father’s sons.
(They look at each other …)
ABIOSEH And what did you tell him?
TSHEMBE (With a great sigh) That it is very difficult to sort cloth in this place!
Dimout
ACT TWO
SCENE 3
Late that afternoon. The Mission.
There is a sudden burst of voices offstage.
RICE (Offstage) We have adopted these measures for extremely good reasons—(DEKOVEN, perspiring and winded, comes out of the jungle, a BOY in his arms. RICE marches behind him shouting. Two SOLDIERS follow)—and I will have them obeyed!
DEKOVEN Marta! Fever!
RICE I am responsible for every life in this district including your own—
DEKOVEN Thank you, Major. Marta! Peter! Someone! (CHARLIE enters downstage and stands absorbing the scene. DEKOVEN kicks open the door and puts the boy down, while the SOLDIERS post themselves outside. MARTA, PETER run on) It’s little Modke, Fever.
(He sits finally and mops his brow)
RICE (An unbroken crest on deaf ears) And if this Mission continues to disregard precautions I shall have to close down the hospital! HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR, DEKOVEN?
MARTA (Turning, hypodermic needle in hand) This is neither a gymnasium nor a military barracks, Major. Please lower your voice or leave.
(She gives the boy a shot and signals to PETER to carry him out)
RICE (An angry look—but lowered voice) Have I made myself clear?
DEKOVEN About what, dear man?
(PETER crosses between them, the boy in his arms)
RICE About the fact that alone out there you were a perfect target, and every time a white man is killed the whole idea—
CHARLIE I’d have thought he couldn’t have been safer than with that boy in his arms, Major. But then I’m sure you know much more about it than I do.
RICE (Sharply) Yes, I do. I know, for instance, that authority in this colony has always depended on the sacredness of a white life—(PETER exits)—and once that authority is undermined—well, if four million blacks should ever take it into their heads to start killing white men …
(MME. NEILSEN enters with ERIC)
MADAME Ah, George, I am glad to see you are your usual cheery self!
RICE (Shoots her a look) In any event, it is my duty to inform you—(Looking from one to the other)—that as of this moment I am assuming full command here. Kumalo has been arrested.
DEKOVEN Kumalo?!
CHARLIE Jesus.
MADAME Amos Kumalo?! Why?
RICE (Taking out a telegram) I received this this morning. “At 0100 hours, 19 May, Zatembe Airport, Dr. Amos Kumalo was taken into custody by local authorities.”
CHARLIE On what charge?
RICE Conspiracy.
CHARLIE Have you gone out of your mind? Your own government invited him here …
RICE (Reads) “… plotting and promoting insurrection against the peace and well-being of the colony. Protective measures—including the detention of all disruptive elements—are to be instituted—(Pointedly looking from one to the other)—at the discretion of the local command.”
MADAME May God protect us.
RICE I expect God will be in a better position to protect us now, Madame.
CHARLIE No doubt. You have just put the one man in jail who offered a shred of hope that—
RICE In jail, sir, which means that at last we can sleep in our beds without fear of murderers!
CHARLIE Are you seriously suggesting that Amos Kumalo—
MARTA I don’t think the Major is suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Morris. We—
CHARLIE I was talking to the Major.
RICE What say we leave that for the trial, eh, Mr. Morris?
MARTA (Glaring at CHARLIE) Yes, we do have courts of law here …
CHARLIE Oh, I’m sure you do!
MARTA (Crisply) They are not ideal, if that is what you mean. But I expect our standards of jurisprudence in matters of race will compare favorably with America’s any day!
(She gives him a look and exits. RICE smiles, appreciatively looking after her, then turns)
RICE In any case, Madame Neilsen—
CHARLIE Incidentally, Major—what makes you think the world will sit still for this?
RICE The world, Mr. Morris, will react de-cisively as always—with a U.N. resolution! But you don’t actually think they’ll send their sons against blood relatives over some half-demented darky prophet, now do you? (He turns back to the old lady) Madame, I am afraid we shall have to quarter troops here.
MADAME Here, Major …?
CHARLIE (Outraged) Major Rice—
DEKOVEN (Blandly ironic) Mr. Morris! For—“the peace and well-being of the colony …”
MADAME (Shaken, looking about helplessly, in her frailty, for support) George, I must ask that you postpone this d
ecision until the Reverend returns.
RICE I’m sorry. This cannot wait. I will appreciate it if the staff would provide such emergency accommodations as possible.
(PETER returns with a broom, and ERIC draws him off to one side to share the news)
MADAME (An appeal) The Reverend didn’t build this Mission to be a base for military operations, George.
RICE Please inform the Reverend that if there are no military operations there will be no Mission.
DEKOVEN (Bitterly) The Major is right! We are white, Madame! We must attend the Major!
MADAME DO we have a choice, Major?
DEKOVEN In fact why stop with troops?! We have lots of room here! Move the lepers in with the malarials in Ward One! Ward Two—“Disruptive Elements”!
RICE Madame, we would never take these disagreeable measures if it—
MADAME Do we have a choice, George?
RICE I assure you we will not interfere with the Mission in any way …
DEKOVEN And we will not interfere with the military!!
MADAME Do we have a choice!
RICE No! (DEKOVEN turns on his heel and strides out) Madame, I am sorry. Perhaps when this darkness is over you will thank me. Good day. (He turns to go—and sees PETER, who is about to exit. Calling out) Peter!
(The African freezes)
PETER Yes, Bwana.
RICE Would you wait? (PETER looks apprehensively from RICE to the SOLDIERS) Mr. Morris, I’d like you to see this. There is a reason we do things the way we do here. Peter, step over here please. (PETER hesitates) Lively now!
(PETER hastens to his side)
PETER Bwana.
RICE (Studying him) How is everything, Peter?
PETER Everything just fine, Bwana.
RICE “Just fine,” is it?
PETER Yes, Bwana.
RICE No complaints then, Peter?
CHARLIE (Sharing PETER’s humiliation) Major Rice, I really don’t see—
RICE You shall, Mr. Morris. Nothing in Africa is quite as it seems. Peter and I understand this—do we not, Peter? (PETER smiles foolishly—not knowing what to make of it, but knowing enough not to say anything) I do not hate the African. I simply know the proper relationship. I am devoted to the blacks who work for me and whom I have helped to civilize. There are no more loyal people. Isn’t that so, Peter?
CHARLIE Major—for Christ’s sakes!
PETER Yes, Bwana.
RICE Peter is a part of—Africa—that you must not forget in times like these. There is a relationship here, something natural and fine. Peter’s children will have something more because of it … Have I spoken fairly, Peter?
PETER Yes, Bwana. (RICE’s eyes do not leave CHARLIE’s) De young boys—dey read de books … dey go to de city … dey tinks dey want be white men in black skins. Without de white man—de jungle close on Africa again. De huts be empty of God and de water turn to dust and de tsetse fly rule de savannah again.
RICE (A man touched and confirmed) When you write your articles, Mr. Morris, I trust you will also bear Peter in mind. Thank you, Peter. (As PETER starts off) Please remember me to your wife.
CHARLIE “—or else!” (RICE shoots him a look and exits after PETER. CHARLIE turns immediately to MME. NEILSEN) Madame—
MADAME (Suddenly seeming very old and fragile) Mr. Morris, if I were a drinker, I would ask you to fix me a drink. Make yourself one.
CHARLIE Madame, I am a drinker, and I will fix myself the stiffest drink I can. (He starts to) I wish the Reverend were here.
MADAME So do I, Mr. Morris.
CHARLIE What would he have done, Madame?
MADAME Young man, I like you. I enjoy talking to you. I even enjoy listening to you, but—I am tired.
CHARLIE What would he have done, Madame?
MADAME What could he do? I don’t imagine very much. But I expect that by now he would be sitting with you reflecting on the state of man in the universe and where he has plummeted. I think you would have both enjoyed that. And now I must go to bed.
CHARLIE Madame, this whole country is about to blow up. The Reverend’s words are important now, vital. (He sits beside her) The world would listen to him.
MADAME (Sighs) He is not here, Mr. Morris.
CHARLIE But you know his sentiments. Perhaps if I could dispatch some word from him … If they’ll listen to anybody, they’ll listen to Torvald Neilsen.
MADAME Just what would they listen to him about?
CHARLIE Why, Kumalo, the troops, the whole tragic farce. (He looks into her eyes expectantly. She says nothing) If you would authorize me to release an appeal to reason from the man who to millions is Africa—
MADAME (She is becoming quite agitated as he keeps pressing, however gently) He is not here, Mr. Morris …
CHARLIE But you are. And you know his sentiments. A statement from him …
MADAME Mr. Morris, I cannot speak for him!
CHARLIE Why not? You know what he would say …
MADAME (Painfully) Yes, I believe I do. He would say—he is a minister, not a statesman … I really must get some rest.
CHARLIE Madame, forgive me, but whatever the line between the two, it was erased when Major Rice stood here—giving orders …
MADAME Yes, I agree …
CHARLIE Then a statement from you …
MADAME From me? It would be of no consequence …
CHARLIE In your husband’s name …
MADAME (She is practically trembling under the stress of his sincerity) I cannot speak for my husband and I really must go to bed … (Calls) Peter …
CHARLIE But he cares about these people …
MADAME Yes he does. Of course. They are his “children” …
CHARLIE Madame, I don’t believe it. Are you suggesting that he would accept this horrible …
MADAME (Desperately) I am suggesting nothing. Except that I am very tired … (PETER enters) Peter … (She reaches out for his hand) Would you mind …
(TSHEMBE enters. He is dressed in tie and suit for travel, and there is urgency in his manner)
TSHEMBE Excuse me, Madame.
MADAME Tshembe—
TSHEMBE I am looking for Major Rice.
MADAME Major Rice? (She struggles to her feet)
TSHEMBE I must have the Major’s permission to see Kumalo in Zatembe. I will need an escort—
(MADAME hesitates helplessly and at last CHARLIE moves forward)
CHARLIE You’re too late, Matoseh.
TSHEMBE Too late? (He turns to the old lady) Madame …?
CHARLIE Believe me, I’ll do everything I can—
(TSHEMBE looks at him blankly)
MADAME Tshembe, Kumalo’s been arrested.
TSHEMBE Arrested?!
(He glances swiftly at PETER—in ironic concession to the older man’s superior wisdom all along)
CHARLIE At the airport … Matoseh, I’m not without connections. They’ll hear about this in Washington, I promise you. All of it.
TSHEMBE (Staring at him. Quietly) They know about it in Washington. (He nods goodbye to MADAME and begins to back slowly away as she watches helplessly) Madame. (There is a flicker of drums)
CHARLIE I mean it, Tshembe. I’ll do everything I can.
TSHEMBE (Smiling cynically) Will you? Everything? Thank you—(Bowing his head)—Bwana!
(The lights dim out on the others as the drums throb and he turns away. And now at last it comes—laughter, slowly at first, then rising uncontrollably. The drums build to a climax and—abruptly—silence: the laughter dies in his throat as the WOMAN appears. He straightens slowly to face her)
Blackout
ACT TWO
SCENE 4
In the darkness “message” drums begin at the back of the house and move swiftly towards the stage.
It is about noon, the next day. The hut. ABIOSEH sits reading his Bible with an apple beside him. Several AFRICANS rush across stage and off. ERIC is among them. He enters hurriedly and reaches for the shield of old Abioseh.
ABIOSEH Eric, I have been waiting for you.
ERIC Kumalo has been arrested!
ABIOSEH What are you doing, boy?
ERIC (Grabbing a spear) They need warriors.
ABIOSEH Sit down, Eric. I want to talk about your future.
ERIC I am summoned!
ABIOSEH Ah. “Summoned.” And shall I also paint your cheeks? Sit down, boy.
ERIC They want me!
(TSHEMBE appears unseen upstage and weaves towards them, quite drunk)
ABIOSEH What do you know about any of it?
ERIC I know it is time to drive the invaders into the sea. And that I shall carry the spear and shield of our father.
TSHEMBE (Enters) You are half European. Which part of yourself will you drive into the sea!
ERIC I am African enough not to mock when my people call!
TSHEMBE And what will you do when your doctor calls, Eric? It takes more than a spear to make a man.
ERIC What does it take, Tshembe? You teach me! What does it take to be a man? A white wife and son?
(He starts out. TSHEMBE blocks the doorway. The boy dances from side to side to escape, but TSHEMBE is the more agile)
TSHEMBE Put down the things, boy. You’re not ready to be—(ERIC crashes the length of the spear against TSHEMBE’s chest. He takes it from him in a show of strength)—a warrior yet … I … promise you.
(He thrusts the spear into the ground and flings ERIC back)
ERIC You stink of cheap whiskey.
TSHEMBE Ah, but it flows from expensive ideals!
(He sets the shield back in place. ERIC seizes the moment to run for it—but ABIOSEH trips him and falls on him in good sportsfield style)
ERIC Let me go! They need me.
TSHEMBE And that is the most important thing in the world, isn’t it?
ERIC Yes.
ABIOSEH Important enough to go setting fire to farms and murdering people. Why, Eric? Why should you feel that way?
ERIC I hate them!
ABIOSEH Why?
TSHEMBE I find you stranger than he. Why shouldn’t he hate them? Are your eyes so full of God you can’t see what’s become of your own brother?
(He sits and bemusedly picks up ABIOSEH’s apple)
ABIOSEH Eric is coming to St. Cyprian’s with me.
TSHEMBE (Polishing the apple with great concentration) And I would prefer to take him with me.
Les Blancs Page 11
