Category: Plays

Alaska

Posted on by Martyna

ALASKA

 

CHARACTERS

SANDRA – coach of the LGBT female basketball team “Žalgirė”. She is lonely, so the girls on the team are like kids to her, she dreams of fashioning them in accordance with her mould and turning them into champions.

JANA – she looks at life quite simply, often says what she thinks in a straightforward manner. She sometimes wishes she could turn into a panda, just to be petted and loved by all, but she gives in to moments of weakness rather seldom. Power forward, the most foul-prone player on the team, the team captain.

TOMA – top model, trans-female, loving people, sharing the best she can and actively reaching her goal. A professional centre.

RADA – feminist, LGBT activist, always fighting for her truth, hates people who do not believe in anything. Alas, plays basketball rather poorly.

ASTA – easily adapting to circumstances, Rada’s girlfriend, bisexual. By the end of the play she gets pregnant and has no idea which to choose – motherhood or her relationship with Jana. Shooting guard.

ONA – heterosexual woman, married, has a son. Ona plays for the team because she does not feel comfortable in the world of heteronormal society. She is a new player on the team.

GODA – constantly spaced-out or under the influence. Likes everything – alcohol, pot, doping. Has a secret hope to find the love of her life but often ruins her relationships before they even start. Point guard.

LIZ – American, cheerful and flexible. A player whose disappearance would go unnoticed by her teammates for quite a while. Guard and occasionally a masseuse.

GRACE – Liza’s cousin.

CABARET PERFORMER – musician (best on accordion) and singer.

TWO GUYS, A GIRL.

 
HOW TO RUN ALL THE WAY TO ALASKA?
 

Basketball court, practice session. All players, except GODA, do a short-distance run, their coach SANDRA times them with her chronometer.

SANDRA All right, that’s it, let’s stop.

The girls line up.

SANDRA Asta – great. 4.3. You’re making one hell of a progress.
ASTA Yeah!
SANDRA Jana – 4.8. Within the norm, I’d say. But your momentum is too slow.
JANA Sure.
SANDRA Ona – also average. 4.9. What’s wrong with you girls – got stuffed on chicken?
JANA We’re just after the weekend.
SANDRA So what did you do over the weekend, hey? What’s the point in your diet, special menus, balanced nutrition? Why do we bring in experts, measure your weight and height? Now take a look at Toma, will you? Zappy like a little roe.
RADA She only feeds on grass.
TOMA Girls, I’m a model…
RADA You’ll snap in half soon, model.
SANDRA She did 4.7. And you, miss Rada, can’t pick up momentum.
RADA How can I, if we run just thirty metres?
SANDRA All right, I know, you are no pros. But don’t talk back like adolescents, OK?
RADA Jana and Goda are pros.
JANA Used to be.
SANDRA By the way, where’s Goda?
RADA So what’s my result?
SANDRA It’s not about the numbers. It’s about the attitude, you understand, the attitude? You must be tough, strong, fast. Like lynxes in the jungle. Why is our team called “Žalgirė”, ah?
RADA So what was my result?
SANDRA I saw this granny on TV, she was eating sand, running marathons, and climbing trees. Well, maybe sand is here beside the point, but one could really envy her agility.
LIZ And I…
SANDRA There’s no set age limit for our players. It doesn’t matter that this is an amateur team. If you want to pluck a fruit, you have to stand on tiptoe, get it?
RADA Discussing women’s age is a sexist thing.

Goda shows up, she is late.

SANDRA Now isn’t that nice. Goda, where’s your kit?
GODA I left it at home. I forgot… I’m sorry.
SANDRA Sorry? After I took you back to the team, that’s all you can say? For crispes sake! I’ve told you many times and I will hammer it into your heads over and over again: basketball is not your job, it is your life. You sleep – you dream of basketball, you eat – you munch on basketball, you get laid – the bodies bounce against each other like a basketball off the floor. Even in the loo, all you drop is basketballs. Balls, balls, balls. And now this – dammit, she forgot her kit!
GODA Sorry, but I lost track watching TV. Do you know what they said? That the next Amateur Olympics will take place in Alaska. Can you imagine it?
SANDRA Goda, today you’ll be just sitting on the bench. And watching us, kapish? I’ve had it with this attitude. Now get it through your heads – your life is basketball, your goal – three-pointers. At any cost.
TOMA And what if we went there?
SANDRA Are you out of your mind? First, you girls must learn to play, second, we’re one player short, third, where can we get the dough?
ASTA We’ll think of something.
RADA I could post an ad on the LGBT billboard in their office…
ASTA And we could search for sponsors or some grants and stuff.
TOMA Maybe we could find a discount on “Wizzair”…
JANA “Wizzair” to Alaska?
LIZ What? Alaska?

In low voice Rada translates for Liz the gist of the girls’ conversation.

GODA Sandra, we need to have a dream…
SANDRA I have a dream – to teach your girls to play.
LIZ My Dad has relatives in Alaska.
TOMA So it’s all on the way…
ALL GIRLS (gently) Sandra…
SANDRA And what do those airline tickets go for?

 
THERE IS A LAND
 

If you really have to translate this into the language of theatre, let this be a geography lesson when the girls were still quite young:

Alaska is a land located between Canada and the Bering Strait. It is the largest and least populated state of the USA. People first arrived there from Asia 15 to 40 thousand years ago and spread all over North America. So they all came and then moved on. And what could they have done there? What could they have grown there?

Eskimos, however, came up with things to do in the Alaska Peninsula, so they settled there 8 thousand years ago. What lovely nature… Which the Russian Empire gave up when it sold Alaska to the United States for 7 million dollars (2 cents per acre).

Alaska is surrounded by the Beaufort Sea, the Chukchi Sea and the Gulf of Alaska. To the West, the Bering Strait separates it from Russia.

About 70% of its territory is the land of permafrost.

Natural resources: oil, natural gas, timber, salmon, minerals, gold.

 
TWO CENTS PER ACRE

LOCKER-ROOM AT THE SPORTS ARENA. THE NEXT DAY.
 

Toma, Jana, Asta, and Liz are getting ready for their practice – putting on their kits, etc.

TOMA What do you think, guys, do we need some special facial cream for Alaska?
JANA We’re not in Alaska yet, are we?
TOMA Do you have to always rain on my parade?

Toma gets up and walks toward the restroom carrying her kit.

JANA Oy, oy, again our Barbie doll is off to change in the loo? What’s with the hiding?
TOMA To keep bears like you from tearing me to shreds.

Toma locks herself up in the restroom.

JANA And do you know why I got this bear tattoo on my back?
TOMA (off, from the restroom) I don’t, and I don’t care to know, it looks horrendous. What a nice patch of skin completely ruined…
JANA (to Asta) Did I mention, that my first love was a bear? Well, her name was actually Aliona, not exactly Bear but…
ASTA (to Toma) Listen, Toma, are you gonna take much longer? I also need to use the place…
TOMA Oh, the impatience of the human race!
ASTA Change in our locker-room – we can hear you’re doing nothing there, anyway.
TOMA (deliberately flushing the toilet) I am. Besides, I have a surprise for you.

Toma emerges from the restroom sporting a new-style kit.

TOMA Voilà! How do you like my presentation?
LIZ Wow, that’s a good one!
JANA Is this an outfit for sports or for a pub?
TOMA It doesn’t come from a factory, it’s all hand-made. I could sew the same for all of us, with my two hands, what do you say? This factory made stuff just makes it look like lockers – no boobs, no hips, no nothing…

Sandra and Rada enter the locker-room engaged in a discussion on how to get money for their trip.

SANDRA What? Thirty-two grand?
GODA Well, for the eight of us the fare would be somewhere about three thousand each…
RADA Plus the hotel rooms for a week.
SANDRA (noticing Toma) Nice little suit there, Toma. But it’s now time to change.
TOMA That’s not a suit, this is my presentation of a new design for our kits…

Enters drowsy Goda.

GODA Hello. I’m not late.
SANDRA So do you deserve a medal just for this?
GODA Do we have our tickets yet?
SANDRA If I were a millionaire, I’d take my little sweethearts wherever the hell they’d please. Designers would come up with puffed-up dresses for them and special “Speedy Gonzales” basketball shoes to boot. We’d be the stars, top of the world, believe you me.
JANA If you were a millionaire you’d never deal with such a losing proposition that we are.
SANDRA You’re not a losing proposition. You’re the future of Lithuania, is that clear? But to make that happen, you can’t be sleeping beauties.
TOMA (observing Goda as she changes) Oh, that’s a nice bra! Do you know that snakes are now in fashion?
GODA Is that a compliment?
TOMA Oh, yeah, for sure – it’s a cool design. Maybe we could somehow think about the kits…

Sandra wants to proceed to the court already but Ona shows up and the coach pauses.

ONA Hi, how are you…
SANDRA Fine.
RADA Oh, this is Onutė, our new teammate.
SANDRA I don’t know about the teammate right away. Well, but it’s nice to meet you. Did you ever play basketball before?
JANA Where did she dig her up?
ONA I did some time ago, at school…
SANDRA I see…
RADA By the way, she wasn’t bad at all.
SANDRA In which position?
ONA We didn’t think about positions back then. Just played and that was it…
JANA I’ll go and just play too, dammit.

Jana exits headed for the court.

ONA I’d really love to play for you, honest. I like obeying rules – I’m tidy, quick on the uptake, never late, I never borrow money, never lose my stuff. I don’t argue, and I don’t gripe.
RADA She’s the only one who responded to my ad. By the way, Ona is an awesome driver.
SANDRA What does driving have to do with it?
ONA I love adrenaline and speed.
TOMA Let the girl try.
SANDRA For now, she can try out the bench, and then…
GODA (cutting in) We’ll try the wrench.
SANDRA The ball, Goda.
ONA Certainly…
SANDRA Only keep in mind, “Žalgirė” is not a hobby, and not a way to brighten up a boring marital co-existence with a filthy-rich hubby. You’ll sweat with the rest of us.
ONA My husband isn’t that rich.
GODA So she’s hetero, anyway…

ALL THE GIRLS Boo… (a kind of noise of disappointment)

RADA I’d ask you to have tolerance for hetero as well, ok? At least she works as a volunteer for the LGBT rather than drinking every night like some of us do, right?
GODA Oy, just go easy with your envy.
SANDRA All right, let’s go to the court. Less talk, more…

ALL THE GIRLS …action!

 

—
📖 For the full English version of the play “Alaska” contact the author Gabrielė Labanauskaitė → [email protected]

Blood Brothers

Posted on by Martyna

BLOOD BROTHERS

Translated by Dovilė Lapinskaitė

 

CHARACTERS

JOHN
JOSEPH
MARIA
ADAS
NINA
KAJUS
JOURNALIST
CHOIR

 

PROLOGUE
 
I have lost my brother –

He slipped under the ice,

I have lost my brother –

He loved to swim so much!

I have lost my brother –

He did not know how to fish.

I have lost my brother –

I have tried

To turn him into fish.

 

TWO CHILDHOODS

 

JOSEPH. I wish I wasn’t here.
JOHN. Our parents doubted whether to get married. Lost, young, poor.
JOSEPH. Idiots.
JOHN. Mom was pregnant.
JOSEPH. And what to do? One more mistake.
JOHN. It was really hard only at the beginning, then they got on their feet.
JOSEPH. Father was beating mother and drank. Neighbours used to call cops.
JOHN. It was nothing.
JOSEPH. Well mother was simply denying everything.
JOHN. You could say that they got along quite well.
JOSEPH. Father fell through the handrails in the stairwell. From the third floor.
JOHN. I had a happy childhood.
JOSEPH. It is said that Mom pushed him. She was already pregnant with me. Is it possible?
JOHN. They bought me a bike when I was five. Cool, isn’t it?
JOSEPH. When she was still breastfeeding me, another man already sucked her tits.
JOHN. But what’s left to do? Single, two children…
JOSEPH. Father’s funeral was quiet and quick.
JOHN. Mother…
JOSEPH. I hate this bitch.

 
MANIPULATION FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE HOMELAND

 
TV talk show.

JOURNALIST. Adas, what is nationalism to you?
ADAS. It is respect for my homeland and roots.
JOURNALIST. Understandably, it is important to respect the fatherland and its people.
ADAS. Of course, there were times when Vytautas’ horse was drinking from The Black Sea, we were majestic!
JOURNALIST. If we talk about facts, horses don’t drink salty sea water.
ADAS. Cut it off! It is just a saying.
JOURNALIST. I think you know that sayings can be dangerous as well. For example, saying “Lithuania for Lithuanians!” incites hatred.
ADAS. Not hatred, but only right for us to live here.
JOURNALIST. Isn’t it a wolf in sheep’s clothing? After all, don’t politicians use nationalist ideology to confront people with each other and then garner more votes? It is a simple “divide and conquer” principle!
ADAS. Nonsense! Politicians and politics only show that the problem is relevant and we need to listen to the voice of the nation. And besides, how will we preserve our language, our uniqueness, if we let in everybody?
JOURNALIST. After all, Lithuanians themselves did not nurture their language – they corresponded with Western Europe in Latin, with Eastern Europe – in the old Slavic clerical language. Even now, we still can’t decide where to look – the east or the west.
ADAS. What nonsense are you talking about here? Shame on you!
JOURNALIST. And besides, you don’t want to let anybody in, and how many Lithuanians have emigrated themselves? In England we are the same wet backs as the emigrants who came here!
ADAS. Only cowards run. A devoted person has a job here and works to serve the homeland.
JOURNALIST. Does serving the homeland mean genocide of other people?
ADAS. What does it have to do with it?
JOURNALIST. I am talking about the attacks on social, ethnic, sexual and other minorities supported by your nationalist party. Attacks during PRIDE and other events.
ADAS. Everyone has the right to their opinion.
JOURNALIST. To opinion yes, but not to violence – we are talking about danger to human lives! And, by the way, the lives of your compatriots, if you are already such a patriot.
ADAS. Why are you manipulating here?
JOURNALIST. You are manipulating people despite of the rights of both homosexual and heterosexual people.
ADAS. Everybody manipulates us all. Throughout history, who has not put their hands on us – Jews, Russians, Poles. It is we who are the victims, not them. Understand?
JOURNALIST. Since you have already touched on the subject of the victims, I would like to ask about a scandalous incident in which a guy was killed last week. It is speculated that this was due to homophobic hatred.
ADAS. Yes, a real tragedy.
JOURNALIST. Do you have any comments on that? After all, the person who committed the murder belonged to a nationalist youth group under your care.
ADAS. Are you already starting to blame me for caring for young people, helping teenagers to stay occupied in their spare time, rather than wandering aimlessly in the streets?
JOURNALIST. Adas, we know that recruiting youth is not such an innocent thing.
ADAS. What? You should build a monument for me, not throw suspicions. Do you have children yourself? Do you know anything about hormonal rage in teens if they don’t have where to put it?
JOURNALIST. So where do you direct those hormones then? To the destruction covered by ideology?
ADAS. First of all, the suspect’s guilt has not yet been proven. We don’t know who killed that young guy. Do you think a brother would kill a brother? Moreover, in their home? Nonsense!
JOURNALIST. “Nonsense” is not an argument.
ADAS. Everything is too obvious. It was probably some kind of attack from the side, and besides, it is not secret, the deceased loved… Hmm. To shag other guys…
JOURNALIST. Please be respectful – you are on national television and…
ADAS (interrupting). You can’t know everything, can you? Maybe it’s an unfortunate love, maybe the lover has settled the old scores. Or maybe bandits, robbers, or thieves…
JOURNALIST. Nothing was stolen from the house, at least according to the relatives of the guys.
ADAS. After all, we are patriots, not maniacs! Am I now responsible for all the murders in the country? Well, think about what you’re talking about, Miss Smarty-Pants.
JOURNALIST. I have heard that in your group of so-called Skinhead National Socialists, red shoelaces are only earned after a bloodshed. Therefore, I do not believe that you are not involved in this tragic murder.
ADAS. Well, don’t then. I also don’t believe that you’re a woman – you look so weird…
JOURNALIST. Dear TV viewers – this is what the diversion of speech and personal humiliation from the official, Adas Kazlauskas, the leader of the Nationalist Party, looks like!
ADAS. You asked for it yourself. Will there be at least one smart question?
JOURNALIST. There will be. Could you kill someone of a different sexual orientation or nationality if you thought you were saving your homeland in this way? Despite the fact that the person would have also lived and grew up here?
ADAS (pulling out the microphone). Jeez, go to hell with your provocations!
JOURNALIST. Adas, wait, where are you going? Take responsibility of your patriotic words!
ADAS. Deeds not words we love the Homeland. Voters believe me!

Adas leaves.

 
THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH
 
JOSEPH. What time is it?
JOURNALIST (saying any time accurate for that moment). Fifteen after six.
JOSEPH. Time is going fucking slow here.
JOURNALIST. Joseph…
JOSEPH. Yes, yes, I remember what we agreed on. No swearing. Why are we still meeting? I have already explained, I have explained everything to the cops a hundred times. Do you think I am so naive and will believe that you will let me go if I tell you tales?
JOURNALIST. Joseph, I’m trying to help you.
JOSEPH. If I’m taken to a full adult prison, they say that nobody is playing around there like they are here, you know?
JOURNALIST. I understand everything, you just see the worst-case scenario.
JOSEPH. I’m in the shoe, there’s nothing more here to fantasise about, all right?
JOURNALIST. I need to gather evidence, Joseph, to release you sooner. Do you understand that?
JOSEPH. What kind of evidence?
JOURNALIST. I don’t know. Everything goes. About family, you, circumstances. Finally, are you really just not covering Adas up?
JOSEPH. Adas has nothing to do with it.
JOURNALIST. I understand he’s as a father to you …
JOSEPH. You don’t understand fuck about my family, is that clear?
JOURNALIST. Okay, I don’t understand, then tell me yourself.

Pause.

JOSEPH. There is not much to say here. Father died, brother died. Point blank period. Now there is mom and me.
JOURNALIST. And a stepfather.
JOSEPH. Well yes, and a stepfather.
JOURNALIST. Tell me everything from the beginning. How did you get along with John?
JOSEPH. I don’t know… Normal. As the brothers get along.
JOURNALIST. And how do the brothers get along?
JOSEPH. John got me the first fag, although he did not smoke himself. We had different gangs, because there was a five years difference between us.
JOURNALIST. Aha…
JOSEPH. After that, my brother got into computer science. Went to study, so that is all the affair.
JOURNALIST. Did you lose touch?
JOSEPH. No at all, why? I went to see him. Visited while he was studying. I was interested in what kind of parties were happening, and what was like there. That is all … My brother didn’t party. But we went to the war museum. There were shit loads of arms there, sick…
JOURNALIST. And what is normal for you?
JOSEPH. I don’t know… You talk to me normally. Well, so to say normally. I know nothing about you.
JOURNALIST. And what would you like to know?
JOSEPH. Why are you trying to dig something up here?
JOURNALIST. Because I care about the truth.
JOSEPH. And what is the truth?
JOURNALIST. So now you’re going to interview me?
JOSEPH. Why not?
JOURNALIST. Well okay. The truth is what is morally and ethically adequate to the current situation.
JOSEPH. And who determines it?
JOURNALIST. The majority of people or the law.
JOSEPH. Is it not because of these laws that I am sitting here?
JOURNALIST. But maybe you shouldn’t sit here because of those laws? Maybe someone else?

 
THREE QUESTIONS
 
Video chat online.

KAJUS. So, okay, let’s get started.
JOHN. What have you had for dinner?
KAJUS. Seriously? Is this your first question?
JOHN. Yeah.
KAJUS. Ok. Black pasta with seafood.
JOHN. Luxurious.
KAJUS. Common’! I was just too lazy to cook.
JOHN. That means you know how to cook?
KAJUS. Is this the second question?
JOHN. No, this is just my conclusion.
KAJUS. Ok.
JOHN. Okay, the second question. How old were you when… for the first time you have got laid?
KAJUS. Really? Do you really care?
JOHN. I don’t know… Well, maybe I care more if it was a girl or a guy?
KAJUS. A girl.
JOHN. So, how did you realise you were gay?
KAJUS. Because I didn’t like it.
JOHN. Ha, is that right?
KAJUS. You know, everything matters: where do you look walking down the street, what do you dream of. Lots of little things.
JOHN. Have you ever loved?
KAJUS. Which question was that? We agreed only to have three questions each.
JOHN. Maybe I want to increase the number?
KAJUS. It’s not the time yet.
JOHN. You talk like an online dating expert.
KAJUS. You are not the only one who surfs the net here.
JOHN. Did you follow me?
KAJUS. No, just your posts.
JOHN. A… And how are they to you?
KAJUS. Slightly… arrogant.
JOHN. Arrogant?
KAJUS. Well, you sound like an “expert”, you know… In real life, everything is different.
JOHN. Well, you don’t even know how I live.
KAJUS. I’ll find out soon – it’s my turn to ask. Although… you don’t look really in a mood.
JOHN. Why – ask, all is well.
KAJUS. Wait a minute… I’ll open my notes. Just kidding. Ok… Do you live alone?
JOHN. Yeah, alone.
KAJUS. In that sense, that you are free, not dating, and not sleeping with anyone?
JOHN. Not sleeping with anybody, so in that sense I am free.
KAJUS. This is still the same question, if you were wondering, I just wanted to clarify.
JOHN. Ok…
KAJUS. Ok… How old are you?
JOHN. Twenty-four.
KAJUS. So, you are an adult?
JOHN. Yes, so what?
KAJUS. Free and not underaged, a good start.
JOHN. I see you are not very picky.
KAJUS. Common’ – you have had to search a long time for the dimples like yours.
JOHN. Are you serious here or just teasing?
KAJUS. It’s clear that I am teasing. And besides, now it is my turn to ask.
JOHN. Well, well, bring it on…
KAJUS. So, the third and final question, tension is rising… BAM! What’s your real name? Here it is written…
JOHN. Forget what is written. After all, no one uses their real names here.
KAJUS. I introduced myself.
JOHN. Come on, seriously? You are Kajus?
KAJUS. Yep, I’m Kajus.
JOHN. All right. Then I am John.
KAJUS. Nice to meet you, John.
JOHN. Me too… Kajus.

 
DEBT
 
Nina and Maria are smoking.

NINA. Common’, don’t inhale that much, little by little…
MARIA. Whoops, yeah…
NINA. Or it will happen again… Well, fam, I need to teach you and teach you. Damn, I remember it like yesterday: I’m coming to my shift, there’s a girl standing by the shelves, and a colleague is trying to figure out what you’re asking: “Gauze? What kind of gauze?” When you saw me, you were so frightened that neither the word could come out of your mouth. Eyes wide wide, like a rabbit.
MARIA. And you immediately understood everything: “Have you started your period?”
NINA. Obviously, you were such a babe. You even left without paying. But I knew you would repay your debt.
MARIA. I was so confused, I am even ashamed to remember…
NINA. When you live only with your nan, you don’t realise that much has changed over the years.
MARIA. Well yeah, and it was the first time…
NINA. Listen, about those first times… Want to try? I can arrange for you what…
MARIA. No need, I have a boyfriend.
NINA. Shut up! Seriously? And you didn’t tell me!
MARIA. Well, everything is still very…
NINA. Well, common’, tell me! How did you meet?
MARIA. One time my mom was having her blood cleaned at the hospital, I brought her oranges and saw a bloke staring at me through the open window. He secretly smoked. “What are you staring at?” I asked, he laughed and I threw an orange at him. And he, you know, caught that orange with one hand and threw it back. That orange flew away, over me, through the benches, through the hospital fence …. Well, like to the moon and back.
NINA. Talking rubbish, you moon, you’re already high.
MARIA. No, I’m serious.
NINA. So, what is the name of that moon?
MARIA. Joseph…
NINA. What? Sooo ancient…
MARIA. Come on, he’s very cool, he’s doing boxing.
NINA. Seriously? Well, bring it to the gang to check him out sometime, I’ll talk to Adas.
MARIA. We’ll see.
NINA. Ah how sneaky, gosh gosh!
MARIA. Listen, Nina, I crave oranges now so much!
NINA. What?
MARIA. Let’s go to the store, gonna’ ride a hype in there!

 
THE FIRST TIME
 
Joseph’s room. The walls are covered with posters. Maria and Joseph are trying to make love, but they are barely succeeding.

JOSEPH. Is everything okay?
MARIA. Maybe you have some water?
JOSEPH. Of course, coming right up.

Joseph hands a glass of water.

MARIA. You are so ready for everything, true professional.
JOSEPH. Well yeah…
MARIA. I don’t know if I’m ready. And besides, that boxer from the poster looks at me so angrily…
JOSEPH. Maria, this is Mike Tyson! He was the youngest world champion. Twenty years old, can you imagine?
MARIA. And black?
JOSEPH. What’s the difference? He had no draws, he always won and did not spare anybody – he often knocked out his opponents in the first round.
MARIA. Well cool…
JOSEPH. I have a feeling he always had to defeat someone, right? That sweat and blood in the ring, that excitement…
MARIA. Is that so for you as well?
JOSEPH. Nah… I am not Tyson, but of course I would like such fights.
MARIA. I know who can help you…
JOSEPH. Coach?
MARIA. Something like this… One day I will show you to him…
JOSEPH. Cool! And what can you show me now, baby?
MARIA. Nothing until Tyson on the wall sees everything…
JOSEPH. Shall I turn off the light?
MARIA. That will not help.
JOSEPH. Then don’t pay attention to him.
MARIA. I can’t, I’m uncomfortable…
JOSEPH. Don’t be afraid of anything. I will protect you.
MARIA. Do you promise?
JOSEPH. I promise.
MARIA. Well good…

Both kissing.

 
COUNTING-OUT RHYME
 

JOHN. I am ashamed to admit, but as a child, with Joseph and the other children we had the following counting-out rhyme:
“The Jew climbed the ladder and fell accidentally. Children, let’s take a little stick and let’s kill that Jewish kid!”

Not only us would count this rhyme, but also the other children of the town when we were playing hide and seek or when we had to choose who would be the captain of the team.
What a nightmare. Mine and Joseph’s great-grandparents hid the Jews in their home from being shot, risking their lives, and we, children, played with those lives. We did not understand the meaning of the words and no one explained it to us – the great-grandparents, even grandparents were no longer alive and the parents were busy with their own affairs.
Only now, as an adult, am I horrified by the true understanding of those words. And I am horrified that they hadn’t bothered any of the adults. Does this mean that anti-Semitism has become the norm?
Can hatred for another be the norm?
Who created such a counting-out rhyme at all?
Once, not that long ago, as I was walking through the yard of my house, I heard the children counting-out the same words again. Has nothing changed in so many years?
I got closer and asked the kids if they knew what that meant. The children replied that it was just a counting-out rhyme. Then I asked:
– Do you really want to kill someone?
– No, – they replied in fright.
When I explained the meaning of the count, one girl even started crying. I comforted her and the children promised to count “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe” from now on, so we separated.
If you let hate to flourish, there will never be an end to it, I thought as I left. It needs to be pulled out like weeds from the very roots.
Deep inside of me the child, who wanted to live in an ideal world cried too.
Only that we need to create this world ourselves.

And then that night I dreamt that those children would grow up and become Nazis, who would sing in the choir their worn-out hits to the whole world:

CHOIR

Children, let’s take this little stick and let’s kill that Jewish kid.
And what did he do?
Climbed the ladder.
And what did he do?
And fell down accidentally.
And what did he do?
He did nothing. But we can still do this:

Children, let’s take this little stick and let’s kill that Jewish kid.
One, two, three!

Children, let’s take this little stick and let’s kill that gay kid.
And what did he do?
He lives in my house.
And what did he do?
Nothing yet, but we won’t wait till he does?
And what did he do?
Nothing yet. But we can still do this:

Children, let’s take this little stick and let’s kill that gay kid.
One, two, three!

Children, let’s take this little stick and let’s kill that gipsy kid.
And what did he do?
He lives in a slum.
And what did he do?
Cultivates the snake pit of drugs.
And what did he do?
Nothing yet. But we can still do this:

Children, let’s take this little stick and let’s kill that gypsy kid.
One, two, three!

And if she was pregnant – a Jew, a lesbian, a gypsy?
Or all three in one?
Screw it – she’s already dead.
One, two, three!

 
THE GOODY BAG
 
Journalist pulls out the goody bag out of her handbag. There are sandwiches with sausage and cheese.

JOURNALIST. Here you go, it’s for you.
JOSEPH. For me? Didn’t they check?
JOURNALIST. Checked, but this time they let me through.
JOSEPH. Cool… I thought about what that means…
JOURNALIST. What do you mean?
JOSEPH. When John went to study, he hardly returned home, and our mother would send him parcels. I don’t know, I would be ashamed to go to the station to pick up sausages. He studied well, received an increased stipend, and still licked mother’s feet for those sausages.
JOURNALIST. Your mom said John was a first-grader since school, wasn’t he?
JOSEPH. Oh, my mom always praised him: “Well John passed the math exam better than you did. And John learned to fart earlier than you …”.
JOURNALIST. Has John ever been an example to you?
JOSEPH. I don’t think so. He was a nerd, I was an athlete.
JOURNALIST. Was there no competition between you?
JOSEPH. What?
JOURNALIST. Competition. Comparison, jealousy, disagreements.
JOSEPH. How about you? Do you have brothers or sisters?
JOURNALIST. I had a sister. But she committed suicide.
JOSEPH. Sorry to hear that.
JOURNALIST. I’m sorry too, but I can’t change that anymore. Although I really wanted to.
JOSEPH. I understand. But John didn’t commit suicide, if anything. Not for his character.
JOURNALIST. Sometimes that suicide can be committed through other hands…
JOSEPH. What? You should read less books, which draws people into nonsense. John, by the way, liked books too. Well, you can see the benefits of it now?
JOURNALIST. And you didn’t read?
JOSEPH. I am like a book. Take and figure it out, what is written here.

 
ILLUSIONS
 
Nina is talking on the phone.

NINA. Hello. Who? I have told you already I don’t know Joseph. He is not my friend. There are no real friends. Friendship is an illusion. Well, a squad of idiots who think they have common likes. Do you like this pizza? Well yes, it tastes great with spinach… Ah no? I don’t like it with spinach, let’s play table football. How much do you pay rent, oh you are in debt for the whole life, congratulations! Is your car driving well? Yeah, not too bad, half arsed? Yes, I’m sorry, I’m done.
What? Friend? I don’t have any friends, you know? All the girlfriends betrayed me. I don’t have anyone I can trust. Even the smallest thing will be ratted out – they will reveal secrets, gossip, you will be slandered from jealousy, or they will stop talking at all, they will see you as a competitor to their sorry’ass boyfriend. I want your candy, your blouse and your bed. Gosh, gosh. Pfff.
What does it have to do with it? Well blokes aren’t even better either – if you don’t know how to cook well, then at least you have to know how to shag well. And to raise kids well. But if you’re a good shag, then it means you’re a bitch and you really don’t know how to raise kids, so that is that.

Is that why we broke up with Adas? In fact, this is none of your business.

 
SWASTIKA SUN
 
Adas is training in the sports hall, Nina is standing nearby.
Maria appears with Joseph.

ADAS. Who is this?
MARIA. It is Joseph, get to know each other.
NINA. Ah, hello, boxer.
JOSEPH. Hello.
MARIA. He’s really one of us, it is all right.
ADAS. He is untested, I see him for the first time.
NINA. Adas, remember, I have told you…
ADAS. You wouldn’t have told me he wouldn’t be here.
JOSEPH (to Adas). I’ve heard a lot about you too, Maria has said that …
ADAS (interrupting). What? And what did that little bird say to you?
JOSEPH. That I need to come here to do useful things.
ADAS. Useful? And what kind of benefits do you get from this?
JOSEPH. What do you mean?
ADAS. What are you capable of?
JOSEPH. Everything.
ADAS. We shall see very soon. On the ground! One hundred push ups!

Joseph starts doing push ups.

ADAS. You need to remember, little shit, only God knows how to do everything. The Messiah was indeed a pagan, he was made Jewish by the Jews, who wanted all the glory and immortality. The same with so-called Christians, who killed us by carrying the seed of evil. I know what I’m saying, I had to experience the Christian bullshit myself. When I was just a little, while kneeling in church every night, I had plenty of time to think about what kind of god it is, if he needed such slavery. It is the god of surrender. He disregards race or nation, it is more important to him that as many mindless people as possible would pray to him. And what to call it, if not slavery? We need to act, not sleep kneeling. In Christianity, a person repents, he is forgiven of his sins, and he can continue to lie, steal what does not belong to him, plunder the state treasury, because next time the priest will forgive him again, maybe he will appoint twice as many Hail Marys. And in paganism guilty must die in order to be burned and cleansed.
Swastika is the sun for the Balts, our faith shines and shows us the way. Don’t stay in the darkness! I proclaim the beginning of the fight against injustice! I declare the age of cleanliness and transparency! Without faggots, perverts, Jews, blacks, reds, yellows without emigrants, without emigration – a pure, white, clean page of history!
I will clean up this city and then the whole country, right?
Enough! Stand up!

Joseph stands up and stretches out like in the army.

ADAS. Rule number one: it is mandatory to listen to a higher-ranking brother! Repeat it!
JOSEPH. Listen to a higher-ranking brother!
ADAS. That means…
JOSEPH. To you!
ADAS. The second rule: be devoted to Homeland to the bone!
JOSEPH. Be devoted to Homeland to the bone!
ADAS. The third rule: do not blabber, but act!
JOSEPH. Don’t blabber, but act!
ADAS. Okay, free to go! You won’t get anything just for thank you, understand? You have to earn everything, with your sweat and blood. Is it clear?
JOSEPH. Of course!

 
THE REQUEST
 
Video chat online.

JOHN. I think we need to change the system.
KAJUS. What kind of system? Are we in an army here?
JOHN. You haven’t been present all week.
KAJUS. I did not have time.
JOHN. I do not believe it.
KAJUS. I don’t like to justify myself. Sorry… We only talked about one meeting in total.
JOHN. We talked, but we didn’t follow, we continued to communicate.
KAJUS. Well, we communicated.
JOHN. It is just weird.
KAJUS. Weird?
JOHN. Well, we chatted every night. Or almost every. And then you’ve disappeared. No messages, nothing.
KAJUS. Maybe I’ve got worried?
JOHN. About what?
KAJUS. That everything is too fast?
JOHN. And what’s here too fast? We haven’t even met live. In general, I don’t even have your address.
KAJUS. And why do you need my address?
JOHN. I… I would like to visit you someday.
KAJUS Really? Would you fly to California?
JOHN. Well, I’d come to observe people jumping from the Golden Gates Bridge.
KAJUS Is that the only reason?
JOHN. Well, I would like to get to know you better.

Pause.

KAJUS. My mother is Lithuanian, my father is Dutch. Got together while studying. I live in San Francisco.
JOHN. I would like to get to know you not only in that sense, Kajus.

Pause. At the end of it, both start talking at the same time.

KAJUS. / I… /
JOHN. /You know…/

Both are silent.

KAJUS. Yes? …
JOHN. Send me your picture.
KAJUS. There are loads of pictures here…
JOHN. No, I mean a picture of a real self. The kind you wouldn’t show everyone.
KAJUS. Isn’t it enough that you already see me all real?
JOHN. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.
 

—
📖 For the full English version of the play “Blood Brothers” contact the author Gabrielė Labanauskaitė → [email protected]

Other Realities

Posted on by Martyna

OTHER REALITIES

 

CHARACTERS

MAIDEN
YOUNG MASTER
 
PLACE

Location in Lithuania, which later became their home
 

I SCENE
 

YOUNG MASTER. I kept looking in through the little window to see how you were writing. Concentrated, stooped over your desk. Never doubting your genius. Requiring special time for that. Special time, special space. I strived to create the kind of home for you in which you would be free like a bird in your poems. Free like your namesake river. Salomėja Nėris. There is a river of this name in Lithuania. Impetous and independent. The way you wanted to be, the way you always were.
 

MAIDEN. You made me a little glass window, a little window into my study where you were able to see my desk from the passageway and know whether I am working or resting. According to that you used to decide if you could disturb me or should rather leave me in peace. As the ink streamed onto the pages of my embroidered notebook, sometimes I felt your gaze gently caressing my back. This feeling used to flood my body with warmth and I smiled. The smile you did not see.
 

YOUNG MASTER. I felt everything. I designed this home in Paris, and we built it in Lithuania, in Palemonas, not far from Kaunas. Surrounded by pine trees, three kilometres from the lagoon, which has moved so much it can now be seen from our window. Pine tree logs, oak doors.
 

MAIDEN. We moved here with our baby son Saulius in our hands. Straight from the maternity hospital. I put our son into a pine wood cradle.
 

YOUNG MASTER. You were able to write anywhere. While rocking the child, every spare minute, when in the garden.
 

MAIDEN. I was always short of time, my lines started to crumble.
 

YOUNG MASTER. You were able to compose poems even from those crumbled lines. The nation liked you, your words became songs.
 

MAIDEN. I did not like to cook. I used to look into your working space through the special window which allowed me to see what you were doing even from the kitchen. I used to think: “Just don’t stop working”. So I would never have to serve food on our dining table.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Nevertheless, you always served it ingeniously.
 

MAIDEN. How to eat was always more important to me than what to eat.
 

YOUNG MASTER. You were a dashing housewife, my maiden!
 

MAIDEN. Wake up at dawn, weed the garden with my writers’ hands protected by gloves. Walk three kilometres to the train station, then get to Kaunas where I taught at the gymnasium. If there was no train – to walk those eight kilometres to the city centre…
 

YOUNG MASTER. Remember how once you walked to the national awards ceremony to get the best poet’s award that year.
 

MAIDEN. Then teach all day at school. Buy groceries in Kaunas because there was hardly anything in our backwater. Walk to the train station with two big shopping bags. Then ride a train home. Then – you meet me. And then I cook dinner. And boil poems together with potatoes. Then tumble into bed exhausted.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Into our oak bed. Big bed on a wooden dais. We used to sleep like royals, elevated above reality.
 

MAIDEN. I keep thinking about what we call reality. Do romantic dreams of adolescence dreamt while sitting leisurely on a bench in a courtyard and watching sunsets belong to reality? Or was it just a projection of youth? Being the only woman among many men – I can’t deny, it was flattering and I was proud of my opportunities – did it prove that there were no other good poets who were women or that I was simply lucky? When I graduated with a degree in Theology and Philosophy yet failed to come to believe in God, in fact, got even further from Him – was it more real than fanatical prayers to the sky? Is what we believe in real? Or perhaps it is the opposite? Real is just that which we doubt? When I came to believe in political leftists’ ideas and started expressing them in my poetry, was I one of those who could see clearly or those who were blinded?
 

YOUNG MASTER. Or when you wrote a poem to Stalin…
 

MAIDEN. Or when I wrote a poem to Stalin in which he saves the nation by bringing us the sun on his steel shoulders… Was I blinded by the rays of that sun and equality ideas? I believed that I cared about the nation. That I cared about ordinary people. While at the same time I was ashamed of my parents who were ordinary people.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Reality is an unceasing creation of our imagination, Salomėja.
 

MAIDEN. I always believed that I am smarter than others, that I can redeem the nation. And only upon my return to Lithuania from Moscow after the war, when I found a bunker and trenches dug around our house lined with volumes of my German encyclopedia, of the best paper…
 

YOUNG MASTER. And your relatives deported to Siberia…
 

MAIDEN. And intelligentsia all killed…
 

YOUNG MASTER. And the empty houses of those who survived, any way they could…
 

MAIDEN. I realised that I was just a cog in the machine, my darling. Just a genial cog in the machine. That was once needed for the sole purpose of spreading propaganda through its poems.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Oh, this is not…
 

MAIDEN. This is reality, my darling.
 

YOUNG MASTER. I know that you did not mean any harm. Any harm.
 

MAIDEN. My new poetry collections that challenged the government were not published. My wish to die in Lithuania and not Russia was not granted.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Too soon, everything happened too soon.
 

MAIDEN. God destined me to die young… In the early, unwritten, morning*…
 

YOUNG MASTER. But we are here now. Together.
 

MAIDEN. Tree to tree.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Two oaks, one on each side of the house entrance.
 

MAIDEN. Tree to tree.
 

YOUNG MASTER. From the wooden house.
 

MAIDEN. From the wooden fence.
 

YOUNG MASTER. From the wooden cradle.
 

MAIDEN. From the wooden bed.
 

YOUNG MASTER. From the wooden work desk.
 

MAIDEN. From the wooden writing desk.
 

YOUNG MASTER. From the good wood shelves for your books.
 

MAIDEN. From the bunkers lined with good paper.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Tree to tree.
 

MAIDEN. From the wooden coffin in which I was transported back to Lithuania.
 

YOUNG MASTER. From wooden coffins of all who were crushed by the system.
 

MAIDEN. I was just a cog. Just a cog in the iron machine of that entire governmental tree.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Salomėja, you were more than this reality.
 

MAIDEN. Our souls live in these oaks. One on the left, one on the right of the house entrance. Remember, they called us the same way we used to call each other: Maiden and Young Master.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Visitors go into our house and don’t know that our spirits are nearby.
 

MAIDEN. They are used to a different reality.
 

YOUNG MASTER. Do come, dear visitors, the Museum of poet Salomeja Neris and architect Bernardas Bučas is open every working day until 5 o’clock in the evening.
 

MAIDEN. Although sometimes the museum employees finish work somewhat earlier.
 

YOUNG MASTER. But this is yet another reality.