DRAMATIS PERSONAE
NARRATOR: An elderly Arab man.
SAIDA, 51: AMIR’s mother, Muslim. Lives in Sheikh Jarrah, East Jerusalem. Sells onions.
HAGAR, 45: RUTH’s mother, ultra-orthodox Jew. Lives in Beth Israel, Jerusalem. Housewife.
RUTH, 16: HAGAR’s daughter. Attends the Beth Yaakov all-girls school.
AMIR, 18: SAIDA’s son. Construction worker.
ANAD: AMIR’s wife.
JOSEPH: RUTH’s husband.
SCENE 4
NARRATOR: It’s morning. Hagar has been tidying up the house but can find no respite for her thoughts; recalling her shopping excursion with Ruth; the look in Ruth’s eyes as they followed that young man.
(HAGAR leaves the house, hears a voice greeting her.)
(Cue elements from SAIDA’s kitchen.)
SAIDA: Morning.
HAGAR: Good morning. (Has a better look.) Hang on; oh, it’s you . . . onion woman . . . the one from the street corner . . .
SAIDA: That’s right. I live round here. The onion fields; they’re over here, just behind the house. (Indicating where with a broad hand gesture.)
HAGAR: Then we live pretty close to each other. Practically neighbours.
SAIDA: D’you want to come in? Come on, come on in. I just finished picking some mint. Gonna make a nice cup of tea.
HAGAR: Umm . . . yeah, sure. (She steps in, a bit hesitant.) I was tidying the flat, like I do every day. But there was something about today . . . just got a bit cabin feverish, you know? It was like I had to go out; get some air. (She looks around the house and takes a seat at the kitchen table.)
SAIDA: Lemme get started on the tea. Try some of the biscuits. They’re fresh! Only baked them last night. Go on, dig in. They’re gorgeous. Full of nuts and dates.
HAGAR (says grace and eats. Bites into the biscuit, lingering on the flavours and pointing out): You’ve put cinnamon in these, haven’t you? No, wait . . . is it baharat? (And with the awe of a woman who also bakes regularly.) These are very, very good. (She brings the mint tea glass to her lips, inhaling the tea fumes.) Smells so nice. (She holds onto the glass as it warms her hands.)
SAIDA: The kids, they’re all right? How many d’you say you had; seven was it? God bless. How old?
HAGAR: Benjamin’s a year old. Rachel’s two and a half. David’s five. Got him his first pair of glasses yesterday. His eyesight isn’t that great, and he’s worried all the other kids will tease him. Saul’s six and a half, Tirza’s eight, Sarah’s eleven, and Ruth . . . (Lingers.) Ruth’s sixteen. A feisty one, that daughter of mine.
SAIDA: It’s good to have plenty of kids. Means you got a happy home. Me, I got nine and if I could, believe you me, I’d be having loads more. Drink your tea . . . while it’s still hot.
HAGAR: I always wanted many children. I only have the one sister. Mama was born in Germany. All our neighbours had lots of kids. I could never ask my mother why it was just the two of us. Felt like she didn’t want to talk about it. It was only after I was married and had my own family that she told me she couldn’t have any more. I still remember the look on her face as she was saying it . . . she had this distant look . . . I don’t know if it was cos she couldn’t or wouldn’t . . . and me, I wanted piles of them! I then told her that please God, I was going to have lots and lots of children. It felt like she wanted to hear me say that.
SAIDA: She was worried you’d also end up with just a couple. You get more intimacy with smaller families, but everything’s that much more complicated.
HAGAR: Yesterday, Ruth just wanted me to back off; stay out of her way and not ask her about anything. Slammed the door and just took off. That girl’s keeping me up at night.
SAIDA: Except it isn’t the door-slamming you’re upset about, is it? It’s everything else that happened before.
HAGAR: I mean, the audacity! What she lets herself get away with. Taking liberties that aren’t hers to take.
SAIDA: You’re the one letting her. Does she even ask you first? Me, they don’t even bother asking. They just tell me they’re happy to listen, and then go and do whatever the hell they want, anyway.
HAGAR: I’m scared Ruth will make a mistake she won’t be able to take back.
SAIDA: You haven’t got much choice though, have you? Let her make her mistake. How else is she gonna learn?
HAGAR (adjusts her skirt, straightens her blouse): I should head back. The kids will be home from school soon and I haven’t even started on lunch.
SAIDA: Hold on. Lemme just grab you some verbena and mint from the garden. (Embraces her.) You’ll come back, yeah? Come again.
(MEANWHILE)
(AMIR and RUTH, sitting on the fence.)
RUTH: Mum has no idea I’m here. If she knew . . . and it’s not as if she didn’t try keeping me in: (Mimics her mother’s voice.) tidy up your room! Why not ask Rachel and Bruria over? It’s cold outside . . . (In her own voice.) what’s she like. (Sniggers.)
AMIR: Maybe she just doesn’t trust you. I never get bossed around. Everyone knows they can count on me to help around the house, and the rest of it . . . that just works itself out.
RUTH: Come on. They really trust you . . . ?
AMIR: That’s right. They do. They trust me. Why wouldn’t they?
RUTH: Are you being serious or is this some kind of “look at me, I’m the man” boasting routine?
AMIR: Why wouldn’t they trust me? What are you saying?
RUTH: Nothing. No reason, it’s all good. (Calling his bluff.) C’mon, who are you kidding?
AMIR: No one.
RUTH: Try everyone. You’re kidding everyone; especially yourself.
AMIR: What’s the big deal? What have we actually done?
RUTH: I’m not allowed to speak to boys.
AMIR: If you’re scared then I guess you’d better go home.
RUTH: What’s wrong with you? How can you say that to me? Yes, of course I’m scared I’ll get caught! Aren’t you worried someone will see you hanging out with a Jew?
AMIR: We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re not hurting anyone.
RUTH: Get your head out of the sand. It’s not as if we live on our own. And if you really are that fine about everything, have you told your mother about me?
(AMIR looks down.)
SCENE 5
NARRATOR: She used to love sitting on the corner of Batei Warsaw St. Every day she would wait for the passersby to stop at her side and sift through the onions; maybe offer her a quick glance, or perhaps not even see her at all and just carry on their way. Today, she decided a break from tradition was called for and instead, set herself up at the northernmost corner of Sabbath Square Junction, hoping more people might cross her path there and that perhaps that way, she could increase her sales and take home some more money.
(Whilst sitting down, watching the passersby. Cue video of the Jerusalem ultra-orthodox sect demonstrating. SAIDA gathers herself, her things; trying to occupy as little space as possible, keep out of harm’s way. A voice from behind grabs her attention.)
HAGAR: Come on, you can’t be here. It’s too dangerous. You’ll be stepped on; trampled over.
SAIDA: What are you doing here?
HAGAR: Shopping, same as every day . . . but I don’t think I’ll be able to get anything today . . . what a mess! Pack up your onions, Saida, and go home. This is only the start of it.
(Whilst they speak, a water hose in a police car is turned on the protesters, soaking them wet.)
SAIDA (all drenched): How am I supposed to go home like this?!
HAGAR: They don’t even see us. Hosing us down like a herd of cows.
SAIDA (remains seated): They got the onions all wet! Look. Who’s going to want to buy those?!
HAGAR: The onions are what you’re worried about?! Grab your stuff and let’s go home; now! Look how they’re treating us. If Nachum, my boy, who isn’t really all that much into school or studying, decided he wanted to enlist, I’d be good with that. Let him make something of himself.
SAIDA: You want your son to enlist in the army? That’d be a shame . . . He’s much better off doing something else; going to school somewhere.
HAGAR: It’s all those Jerusalemite Haredi hardliners who are having a fit about the draft; not us.
SAIDA: I can’t go home like this. I haven’t made a penny today.
(As she speaks, she gets trampled over by a gang of ultra-orthodox Jews.)
HAGAR (runs over to SAIDA): Are you okay? Get up. Saida, get up. Come on, let’s go home.
SAIDA (barely getting up off the ground. HAGAR supports her): Bloody idiot stepped right on me. Can’t even move my leg now!
HAGAR: Get up, nice and easy. Let’s get out of here.
SAIDA (rises to her feet, checks her hands. Cleaning the black colour off her palms, rubbing her knee): My knee hurts, but it’s the heart that’s really sore.
HAGAR: It isn’t personal.
SAIDA (limping, leaning on HAGAR for support): Everyone’s seeing red . . . this is terrifying!
HAGAR: The police want everyone gone. Come on, Saida, come on. We’ll take the side streets. It’s a lot quieter there.
(SAIDA slowly walking, holding HAGAR’s hand.)
HAGAR: We’ll go back to yours. Get your bruises looked at. Make sure nothing’s broken.
SAIDA: No, none of that . . . nothing’s broken, alhamdulillah. If it were, there’s no way I’d be walking like this. We’re already close to home. I’m almost there. You go back to yours. They’re waiting for you.
HAGAR: If you think I’m just going to leave you here, you’ve got another think coming. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were more Jewish than a Jewish grandmother.C’mon, Saida; lean on me. (They walk together.)
SAIDA: Over there; just past the turn, up on that small hill . . . see that? That’s my home.
HAGAR: The stone one with all those arches in the windows?
SAIDA (smiles): All the houses here are stone houses. You haven’t already forgotten what it looks like, have you?
HAGAR: All this stress’s turned my brain to mush.
SAIDA: It’ll come back to you, the closer we get. I never realised how long it takes to get home.
HAGAR: Thank the Lord you’re up on your feet. You could see the fear in their eyes. Such blank expressions. The police and us.
SAIDA: The police . . . they’re not your people?
HAGAR: Well, no; not really. We don’t look the same. We don’t talk the same. We don’t have the same priorities. I have my faith. They have nothing. When there’s faith in your heart, there’s no room for that kind of hate.
SAIDA (limps on): They can’t keep their heart and their job separate. That’s what it is. They don’t even see us.
HAGAR (the two stop outside the house): Get in. You need to rub some iodine on those bruises . . . get them disinfected. I really have to run.
SAIDA (hugging HAGAR): Everything’s gonna be fine, Inshallah. Thank you for coming with me. I’m never going to forget this. You’ll come visit, yeah? My home is your home.
HAGAR: I will. Promise. You take care. (Rushes off.)
(END OF EXCERPT.)
