Kwaku (flips) Don’t you call me mad, you little fag!
Idrissa tries desperately hard not to lose his rag but points right back at him.
Idrissa Don’t you call me names – I don’t have to take dat.
Kwaku Den fuck off then.
Michael Kwaku!
Kwaku Think I don’t know what you all been saying about me? Think I don’t know? . . .
They look at Adrian.
But you’re wrong. Look, see, we’ve not been as hot as this for years. Do you know how many people are asking about us today? . . . Newsweek, Radio 4, bloody Australian TV to ras . . .
Michael Of course they’re calling, K, hoping to be the one that strings you up!
Kwaku Rubbish. People are talking about it, people are arguing about it. Debate, people – debate is everything!
Issi My cousin called me this morning. Her kids are fighting in the playground with West Indian kids.
Idrissa They use to do that shit back in the seventies!
Kwaku That’s right, and you lot use to get a bloody good kicking then too . . .
Idrissa What are you talking about?
Michael (loses it a bit) Do you think that’s something to be proud of? That you, not the white kids, were the ones calling us jungle bunnies, that you, not them, were the ones shouting from across the street, ‘African booboo, take the bone out of your nose,’ making our lives hell . . . Do you think that is something to be proud of?
Kwaku (shouts) What’s that in comparison to selling us, Michael?
Michael (shouts back) I didn’t sell you!
Kwaku But you benefited from it?
Michael How? How? Letting them into our country so they could take over and plunder it? We were a great civilisation that stretched from –
Kwaku (screams from the heart) If you were so great why didn’t you come and get us? Why didn’t you come and reclaim us when we were dying in the fields, raped in the huts, being brutalised and made half fucking human . . .
Idrissa Ohhh! My God . . .
Michael There were Africans that resisted, you know . . .
Kwaku Not hard enough! We beat you and called you jungle bunny because it was the first time in four hundred years that we could tell you: you – hurt – me. The first time that we could show you our pain. And I’ll be damned if right here and now, when our old folk are dying and half our fucking men are with bloody white women, and the other half are in jail, and you guys are multiplying and multiplying that I’m gonna have anyone, anyone stand in the way of me defending my people. Defending those that need me . . . you lot don’t need me . . . they do . . .
Idrissa Rubbish, you attacked us because you were jealous, cos we have families, cos we came here to work and educate ourselves, not laze about the streets, smoking ganja, depending on the state to . . .
Val (hands on ears screams at the top of his voice) Ahhhhhhhhhhh!
Kwaku Val, Val, Val, stop it. Stop it . . .
Val Ahhhhhhhhhhh! (Chants.) We were not slaves, we were not slaves, we were enslaved . . . people, human beings . . .
Michael Val, Val, Val, stop, stop.
Kwaku Get off him . . . Val.
Kwaku slaps him hard across the face. Val cools a little.
Val I can’t take this! (Chants.) I am not a slave, I’m a human . . . I can’t take it, K. I can’t take it. You know, I couldn’t get out de bed this morning the weight, the weight of my head. I couldn’t get it off the pillow. All I could hear in my mind was de shouting and the noise . . . How wicked we are, how bad, how low, how poor and how sick and . . . I can’t take no more bad talk, K . . . How am I suppose to raise my head? How we children suppose to . . .
Kwaku Valdon, we fighting to raise your head. If we fight this thing right, we will never have to fight it again. We children won’t have to fight it. Now calm down, Val . . . I need you on side, I need you to be a West Indian right now, OK?
He pulls Val next to Adrian, leaving Michael, Issi on one side and Junior in the middle. He stares at them.
Michael (incredulously) You gonna divide this office now into African versus West Indians?
Kwaku It was the join that was artificial.
Adrian That’s right!
Idrissa I’ve had enough. He’ll be rounding us up next. I’m outta this madhouse.
Michael grabs him.
Michael Idrissa!
Junior looks at his father.
Junior Dad. You didn’t take my hand, Dad. Where am I suppose to go?
Kwaku You were always your mother’s child!
Junior just stares at him.
Michael looks at the pain in Junior’s face.
Michael That’s it. That’s . . . You’ve gone too far, K . . . I want this to stop now. It either stops this second or I will . . .
Kwaku You’ll what?
Michael I have only ever wanted to serve your vision, Kwaku, but if that vision means I have to push you aside, I will do that.
Kwaku Push me aside?
Michael It doesn’t have to be that way. Please, K, let’s not travel this road, please . . .
Kwaku (contained) Fuck you, Michael. You’re not man enough.
Michael I made you go on holiday, K, because I thought maybe the time away would be good for you. Bring you back, mind refreshed . . . But you can’t remember key things, who you’ve spoken to, what you’ve signed, what month or even year we did this or other . . . We are in dire financial difficulty and as of now I’m sure I can say you no longer have the confidence of your staff. But most of all, you are losing your mind. I know that now and I can’t allow us all to go down with you. That will be my report to the board, to the Charity Commission, but most importantly, to my conscience.
Kwaku (laughs) Is me crown you after, Michael? Is war you really want? I long know it is me pussy you want – well, watch her there na – (Points to Issi.) Tek it! But you don’t have the guts to take my company from me? Remember burying people is in me genes. You sure you want to war with me?
Michael Like I said, it doesn’t have to be that way, Kwaku.
Kwaku It already is. I’ll accept, no expect, everyone’s resignation by first thing in the morning. And your desks cleared by the end of the week.
Issi picks up her bags and walks out.
Issi You can have mine right now.
Kwaku You know what, fuck the end of the week . . .
He moves to the desk and starts throwing the papers and computer screens on to the floor.
Fuck it. I want you out now . . . get out now, all of you – nowwww, fuck off out me place.
Adrian and Val run to calm him before he smashes up the whole office.
Kwaku Fuck dem, I want them outtttt! Get them outta me place!
Lights. The echo chamber hits the horns of Aswad’s deep dark dub, ‘Rockers’ Medley’.
Scene Four
Three days later.
Michael and Junior are sitting in the office in silence. It’s a little tidier but still ransacked – well, their desks are anyway.
Eventually Lola runs in. She has one of those suitcases that can be used as hand luggage on an aircraft and is wearing a big coat.
Lola So where is the fool? Jesus, he did this?
Michael gently nods.
Michael Two days ago. All of us refused to resign except for Issi – so every night he ransacks our desks . . . Leaves big scrawling notes. ‘When you coming out me place?’ He’ll be in soon, so we should get to it.
Junior When I went round he put his arse out the window and tried to fart at me. ‘That’s all you are!’ he said.
Lola Did the neighbours see? Don’t answer that.
They all sit.
Michael We normally clean up straight away, but I just needed you to see what we’ve been going through.
Lola What have the board said?
Michael I haven’t told them. Yet.
Lola Ohhh, Michael, Michael.
Michael I know, I know. I wanted to wait for you . . .
> Idrissa comes rushing in.
Idrissa Sorry, my Oyster card had run out. The bloody Jamo conductor decided that this was the day he wanted to embarrass someone. Starts shouting at me . . . I’m ‘taking the piss’. ‘Who do I think I am?’ Blah blah blah. I wanted to say ‘I know who I am, you cultureless West Indian, do you?’ (Calms.) Sorry . . . Good to see you, Lola . . . How was Nijah?
Lola Fine, Idrissa, fine.
Michael I asked Idrissa along because he has had direct experience of . . . what I want to talk about.
Lola Which is?
Michael I was wondering if there is an argument for Kwaku being . . . made to seek help.
Lola Made?
Michael When people find themselves in his situation, where they can’t, or maybe refuse to see their condition for what it really is, it’s up to the family and friends to sometimes be pro-active. I do consider myself family . . .
Lola (surprised) You’re not suggesting that we . . . section him? Is that what you’ve called me back to do?
The men look at each other.
Junior (outraged) You didn’t tell me about that, Michael.
Michael I don’t know what else to suggest! He’s sticking his arse out of windows, he’s shouting for black racism on the television, he’s telling his own son that –
Junior I know what he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean we have to put him in a madhouse!
Michael One more outburst like that on telly, on the street even, he’ll be arrested – and then what?
Junior You know what? I’m thinking maybe he is right, maybe you are trying to take his crown . . .
Lola (cuts him off) Junior? Calm down.
Junior (screams) I won’t calm down, I’ve been calm too long, do you hear what this traitor is saying?
Lola approaches to calm him down with an embrace. Junior doesn’t know what to do with his level of frustration. He’s almost crying.
Junior (still there) You sure, you sure it’s not you that’s going mad, Michael? It’s not you that’s engineering all this so that you can . . . ’bout putting him in a madhouse.
Michael Me? It’s you guys I’m trying to pro – Look!
He grabs some papers from briefcase.
The company’s bank statements for the last six months. That’s the business account, savings one, savings two, umm, look at the figure at the bottom of savings two – tell me what it says!
Lola One hundred and one thousand three hundred and . . . (Surprised.) He got the money. Who gave him that?
Michael Look again, Lola, and look carefully, there’s not been a withdrawal from that account – in over a year.
Lola What are you saying?
Michael There never was any money missing. Our payroll was covered last month by Steve putting us into unofficial overdraft . . .
Lola No, the money had to be missing . . . He asked me to ask my father for some – couldn’t the bank have just made a mistake?
Michael It’s everything they say happens when you begin to suffer from dementia. The mind is not working the way it used to. He didn’t read the statements properly, Lola.
Junior How’d you know that?
Michael If it’s not that, then he engineered the whole thing to push you out and let Adrian in – choose whatever version you want . . .
Beat.
Idrissa When my aunt was . . . OK, what you need are two doctors, one of whom knows him well, and a social worker or a close relative to agree this is the right thing to do.
Junior Who fucking asked you?
Michael (a little heated) Trust me, if his mind deteriorates further he could be a risk to himself, Lola. No offence. There’s no one at home.
Lola (not convinced) Go to the board, sack his arse – nothing like a good fall to get Kwaku’s juices flowing. He’s not mad, he’s a crazy fool, but he’s not, he’s just, just . . .
Michael (firm) Just what, Lola? The man cannot put his father’s death into context, he blames himself for not being there, for not saving him from the fall, for changing his name, for marrying an African, for . . . His father is ever-present, it’s textbook stuff.
Lola And I don’t want to put my husband in a madhouse.
Michael You think I do?!
Lola You know what they do to black people in those places?
Michael (shouts) You don’t want to section him, find a way to walk him in!
Lola Think he listens me, Michael? Do you think we’d be standing here if he listened to anyone?
Junior Exactly!
Michael (loses it for a second) If you were half the man your father was then you would find a way to make him listen.
Enter Adrian. They don’t know how much he’s heard.
Junior clocks him and just stares at Adrian. We’re not sure what is going through Junior’s mind at this moment.
After a beat or so Adrian walks over to his desk, one that is tidy, and starts to go through different papers.
After a few beats Michael speaks.
Michael Umm, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m bursting for a coffee. Idrissa? Did I tell you about that new deli on the corner, Lola?
Silence. Adrian of course does not respond.
They get up and move out of the office.
Adrian Guys, if you’re getting yourselves a takeaway, mine’s a latte! Thanks.
Michael and Idrissa look at each other and exit. Adrian smiles.
Lola rises very slowly, staring at Adrian. She walks towards him.
Lola You look like her.
Adrian doesn’t know what to say for a beat.
Adrian (pointed) Mum always thought I looked more like my father, actually, but when she stared at us both together the other night she agreed I look like myself.
Lola Please be sure to tell your mother, I’m back.
She exits. Junior indicates that he will catch them up. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he’s going to say something. Adrian is still staring at Lola. After a few beats:
Adrian (unnerved) Why would she do that? Why would she take the piss out of my mother?
Junior I don’t think that’s what –
Adrian Why did she do that? I mean, doesn’t she think you guys have given my mum enough pain as it is?
Junior I don’t –
Adrian Do you think laughing at us is funny?
Junior We’re not laughing at . . . Why would we do that?
Adrian Oh, come on, Junior.
Junior (undercutting) No, you come on, Adrian, I need to speak to you about something more important than –
Adrian What? You want me to run out and get you a coffee, or some croissants, maybe?
Junior (sincere) Give me a break here, Adrian. I’m trying to –
Adrian Well, try harder! You never did quite learn to do that, did you?
Junior Do what?
Adrian Try hard enough. He used to bring your school reports home, you know – cussing. ‘Big private school and look?’ Do you know we had a whole wall full of you. Junior in school uniform, Junior at a football tournament, Junior in Grenada on holiday . . .
Junior Why did she put them up?
Adrian Don’t be stupid . . . isn’t it obvious? It was so embarrassing when my friends came round, they’d say who’s that? I’d have to say – it’s my cousin.
Junior I’m sorry, I didn’t know . . .
Adrian How would you know? You were there in the big house – one big happy African family. While we, the lowly West Indians, were moving from pillar to post. So you’ll understand when I say you want something from me, you need to try harder.
Junior Alright, you wanna bring this down? Come we go. I may not know what it’s like to be the ‘outsider’. I do know though what it’s like to not be the child your father wants you to be – that was you, obviously. When he would rage at my lack of academic success I now know who he was comparing me to. Yep, I may have had the big house but you’re the one he’s proud of – you, Adrian, Oxford, Portland, PhD, etc. He
listens to you. Go tell him he needs help . . . walk him into somewhere, please . . . somewhere where someone . . . professional can help . . . help him heal. Don’t let them have to force him. That man has done too much for his community to end up . . . There’s so much guilt floating around him . . . so much pain – it’s killing him, Adrian . . . and only you can help . . . because he’ll listen . . . to you.
Adrian What? Because he’s finally realised that what we need is an African Caribbean think-tank, he’s crazy?
Junior (firm) The man needs therapy.
Adrian The streets are filled with the walking wounded.
Junior He needs it now before he cracks up. All this shouting from the rooftops –
Adrian (exclaims) – Is his therapy. Believe me, I know.
Junior What do you know, Adrian? That he screamed like an animal being skinned alive when he found his father had been laying dead for three days at the bottom of his stairs? That his father left everything he had to his thirty-year-old girlfriend of two years and the rest of us nothing? That he didn’t say a word to us but went to the grave every day for eighteen months crying, asking for forgiveness? What do you know? Tell me what you know, O favoured one? I tell you what I know – that if we don’t help him he will fall and die. And any legacy that the man’s had will lay at the bottom of the gutter that they pick him up from. Gloved and masked . . . You think we’re wounded now? Wait till we have to visit him in Rampton.
Beat. The boys stare at each other.
I may not be as bright as you, know all this slave history stuff, but I do know that this is how they got us to sell each other in the first place . . . told one tribe they were better than the other – while arming and saying the same to the neighbouring tribe. I want to kill you right now. If we get caught up in our own shit – no one wins. I paraphrase but I’m sure I quote a great work.
Adrian You flatter me.
Junior It was there to be read. I also read your conclusion. One needs to say sorry. Even when you are unsure of the harm you have caused . . . unsure of how one has personally benefited. So . . . sorry, Adrian . . .
Adrian Stop it . . .
Junior For all you’ve had to go through . . .
Adrian (screams) Stop it . . .
Junior I am sorry . . .
Adrian (loses it) Just . . . stop. I neither want or need your cheap-arse apologies, alright? You can’t give me the years back, can you? Can you? So it is worthless to me.
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