House of Many Tongues Read online

  HOUSE OF MANY TONGUES

  JONATHAN GARFINKEL

  Playwrights Canada Press

  Toronto

  Also by Jonathan Garfinkel:

  Ambivalence: Crossing the Israel/Palestine Divide

  Glass Psalms

  The Trials of John Demjanjuk: A Holocaust Cabaret

  Walking to Russia

  House of Many Tongues © Copyright 2009 Jonathan Garfinkel

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  Cover art and design by Carolyn McNeillie

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Garfinkel, Jonathan

  House of many tongues [electronic resource] / Jonathan Garfinkel.

  A play.

  Electronic document issued in EBOOK format.

  Also issued in print and PDF format.

  ISBN 978-0-88754-962-5

  I. Title.

  PS8563.A646H69 2011c C812'.6 C2011-900633-2

  Playwrights Canada Press acknowledges the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and of the Province of Ontario through the Ontario Arts Council and the Ontario Media Development Corporation for our publishing activities.

  Dedicated to the real Alex, four a.m. by a piano in the Basement Theatre, Tbilisi,

  and to Abu Dalo and Shimon, eternal neighbours.

  Playwright’s Note

  The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is one of the last taboo subjects of our times. In North America it is a topic discussed with great difficulty and is often met with resistance, fury and disgust. “Anti-Zionist” and “anti-Semite” are but two of the slurs I had thrown at me in response to my trying to engage this theme. The political and cultural climate is one that says we must be sensitive to history, politically correct and culturally sensitive. This is a tiresome argument for any writer; it just isn’t kosher to criticize Israel or Palestine these days.

  That I chose to explore this subject through theatre is not a novel approach. That I attempted to do so with absurdism and magical realism has to do with the reality of the situation: I wanted to capture something of the near-mythic levels of irrational madness that possess people in laying claim to a land as their own while excluding the other. This play is anti-war—which contains its own irrationality. But it is also about the way we repeat ourselves, again and again, ad nauseam.

  The play has seen various incarnations. In reading over the different versions leading up to this publication, I remembered a discussion with E.C. Woodley and Nikki Landau. We were watching the actors and the numerous drafts were scattered on the Tarragon stage. Opening night was approaching; there was yet another rewrite. We agreed that the scene in front of us—the countless pages, the director trying a new line, me scratching another one out—might make the most truthful version of the Israeli-Palestinian play: one that is constantly shifting, constantly arguing over right and wrong, and always failing. I hope there is something in these lines that acknowledges that mess.

  —Jonathan Garfinkel

  Berlin, 2011

  House of Many Tongues received its world premiere in German (Das Haus der vielen Zungen) at the Bochum Schauspielhaus in Bochum, Germany, in October 2008. It was translated by Frank Heibert and directed by Kristo Šagor.

  A significantly revised version of the play premiered in English at the Tarragon Theatre in Toronto, Canada, on May 5, 2009. It was directed by Richard Rose and featured the following cast and crew:

  Alex—Daniel Karasik

  Shimon—Howard Jerome

  Abu Dalo, Mahmoud Darwish—Hrant Alianak

  Suha—Erin McKinnon

  Rivka, Melissa’s Vagina, Shabak Agent—Nikki Landau

  The Camel—Raoul Bhaneja

  The House—Fiona Highet

  Teresa Przybylski—set and costumes

  E.C. Woodley—sound design

  The text in this published edition is a slightly modified version of the Tarragon production.

  The Palestinians are in Palestine because they have no other place in the world.

  The Israeli Jews are in Israel for the same reason—they have no other place in the world.

  This provides for a perfect understanding and a terrible tragedy.

  —Amos Oz

  If the olive trees knew the hands that planted them, their oil would become tears.

  —Mahmoud Darwish

  Characters in Order of Appearance:

  Shimon: The General, sixty-one

  Alex: Author of the Cunnilingus Manifesto, son of Shimon, fifteen

  Rivka: The cousin and tutor of Alex, twenty-eight

  Melissa’s Vagina: Female

  The House: Female

  Abu Dalo: Displaced Palestinian, the Writer, fifty

  The Camel: Male

  Suha: The daughter of Abu Dalo, object of Alex’s desire, fifteen

  Mahmoud Darwish: Palestinian national poet, sixty

  Shabak Agent: Female, thirties

  Act I

  Scene 1

  Israel, 1988. By the Jordan River. SHIMON, in army fatigues, drinking beer.

  Shimon: We’re waiting here to kill or be killed.

  Waiting for the enemy to speak its name.

  If you look to the left,

  you can see the wind blow dust around the hills.

  They say this hill is holy.

  Something or other was sacrificed here,

  someone had a vision over there.

  That’s what we’re killing for.

  Something so holy even the earth will bleed.

  Kill or be killed.

  SHIMON washes his hands in the river. A basket floats toward him. Laughs.

  And there’s the miracle. A basket. Floating on the Jordan River.

  There’s a bundle with a baby on it. SHIMON removes the child from the raft.

  What the fuck? A baby!

  Doesn’t make a sound. Not a peep. Doesn’t even cry. You Moses or something?

  Picks up his beer.

  L’chayim Moses!

  You want some, little brother?

  You want a beer with me?

  You’re not death, little brother.

  You’re life. The land is your mother.

  And that unknown something

  that controls time and farts out our stinking fates

  is your father. They gave us to each other.

  Welcome to the Holy Land.

  Welcome to your Home.

  Scene 2

  2003. A house in Jerusalem.

  The bundle in the raft becomes ALEX, aged fifteen.

  He holds a pen and a pad of paper. SHIMON, drinking beer, wears army fatigues.

  Alex: Dad, who’s my
mother?

  Shimon: The land is your mother. Are you writing this down?

  May 15, 1988. The fortieth anniversary of our nation. And the birth of my son.

  Alex: I don’t want to write this.

  Shimon: We write our history. Together. Father and son.

  Alex: (He puts down the pen.) I don’t want to.

  Shimon: Come on, kid. It’s our story.

  Alex: I don’t like this story.

  Shimon: It’s your story. How you were born.

  Alex: I want to know who my real mother is.

  SHIMON presents ALEX with a gun.

  Shimon: Happy fifteenth birthday, Alex.

  Alex: The gun?

  Shimon: 1934 German Mauser. I fought in the ’67 War with this. Defended and overcame with this. An entire hillside ours because of this gun.

  ALEX reluctantly takes it.

  Alex: That’s great, Dad.

  Shimon: It’s consistency. Better than any woman you’ll ever meet. Beautiful. Powerful. Reliable too.

  Alex: This gun is not beautiful.

  Shimon: This gun is the Miracle of ’67.

  My legacy.

  From me to you.

  Alex: I don’t want your gun.

  Shimon: You have to write the story of the gun.

  Our story.

  The miracle of how you were born!

  Alex: I don’t want to write your book.

  Shimon: Hope was you on a river arriving into my arms.

  Hope was this house I found in the fucked-upness of war.

  Hope was the birth of this nation!

  Nearly sixty years ago, David Ben-Gurion had a vision for our people:

  To be a light unto nations.

  In one week’s time, your hero Ilan Ramon will be the first Israeli to travel

  into outer space. This hope will become manifest.

  That’s how great this country is.

  We can send men to the stars!

  Alex: (robot-like) This is the twenty-first century. I don’t believe in miracles. I don’t care how great this country is.

  Shimon: Sure you do.

  Alex: I don’t care about outer space.

  Shimon: To tell a story, you have to start at the beginning.

  We will write the truth.

  Alex: Tell me who my mother is and I’ll write your story.

  Shimon: I give you this gun and you write our story.

  Alex: Uch! (ALEX storms out.)

  Shimon: Help me write!

  Help me be my eyes.

  Happy birthday, Alexander.

  Scene 3

  ALEX in his room, writing.

  Alex: My dad’s a liar.

  Under his mattress there lives a woman named Melissa.

  I found her.

  Melissa’s beautiful. She’s glossy, folds out in three parts and comes from Ohio. She also has lemon meringue slathered permanently around her breasts. Makes her tits look like a glazed challah.

  I follow her body with my eyes. Down. Down to something I’ve never seen before. It’s mysterious and beautiful and I have an urge to do something—to make contact.

  Melissa’s Vagina: Liberate me, Alex.

  Alex: Oh my God… her thing… it speaks.

  Melissa’s Vagina: Liberate me.

  Alex: It says.

  Liberate you?

  Melissa’s Vagina: Take me away from him.

  Alex: It says.

  But I’m only fifteen,

  I say.

  Melissa’s Vagina: It’s time for you to become a man.

  To travel to where no Israeli has ever gone before.

  To boldly enter the cosmos.

  Use your tongue—for a man needs to use his tongue

  so he can learn to speak

  in new ways.

  Cunnilingus.

  Alex: It says.

  Cunnilingus?

  I say.

  Enter RIVKA.

  Rivka: Happy birthday, Alex!

  Radio sounds.

  Alex: Houston, this is space shuttle Columbia. We’re ready for takeoff.

  Houston: Copy, Alex. All systems go.

  Alex: I’m heading to where no man has gone before.

  Houston: Roger that. You be careful in there.

  Alex: I’m staring into the cosmos, Houston. I’m ready for entry. And I’m terrified.

  Rivka: Did you do your homework?

  Alex: You betcha.

  Rivka: That’s fantastic!

  Alex: The truth is, Rivka… May I call you Rivka?

  Rivka: You always call me Rivka.

  Alex: I like your stockings.

  Rivka: Huh?

  Alex: You’re wearing very nice stockings.

  Rivka: Right.

  Alex: Your stockings look like silk. Are they?

  Rivka: Polyester.

  Alex: I imagine they’re not as soft as your skin.

  Rivka: Uh-huh.

  Alex: Although it’s not your skin that interests me. It’s what’s beneath.

  Rivka: What’s beneath my skin?

  Alex: Well, you know.

  Rivka: Alex. Are you coming on to me?

  Alex: No. I’m warming up my intentions.

  Rivka: What are you talking about?

  Alex: I’m going to give you cunnilingus.

  Rivka: What?

  Alex: Teach me how.

  Rivka: No way!

  Alex: Please.

  Rivka: I’m twice your age.

  Alex: Your experience is vital.

  Rivka: I’m your tutor.

  Alex: Exactly.

  Rivka: Your math tutor. I’m also your cousin.

  Alex: It has not been proven that we are of the same blood. And besides, even if we were. Isn’t it always better to keep things in the family?

  Rivka: Your dad would kill me.

  Alex: If that’s the only reason why you don’t want me to perform the act of cunnilingus—

  Rivka: That’s enough. Your father told me you were suspended from school today.

  Alex: It’s just for three days. I needed some time off anyways. I need to get to work.

  Rivka: What did you do to get suspended?

  Alex: (ignoring her) Why are teachers so stupid? Why can’t they teach us something important, like something we might actually use in life? Something that would change the world—for good.

  Scientifically he begins to move his tongue back and forth.

  Is it better to go side to side or up and down?

  Rivka: Alex, your father’s worried about you.

  Alex: (takes out pen and paper) My father says that Israeli men don’t like to perform cunnilingus. Is this true?

  Rivka: Of course not.

  Alex: (writing) Oh. You mean some Israeli men do perform cunnilingus?

  Rivka: Of course.

  Alex: Are they any good?

  Rivka: I don’t know. I haven’t let every man in Israel go down on me.

  Alex: Roughly how many would you say do it? Plus or minus three percent.

  Rivka: Alex. We are not having sex together.

  Alex: I don’t want to copulate with you. I want to learn how to give you oral pleasure. Perfectly. (a beat) Hey. You’re blushing. What are you scared of?

  Rivka: I’m not scared.

  Alex: Then you’re ashamed.

  Rivka: I am not ashamed.

  Alex: When a person feels shame it’s because they can’t handle the truth of things. Because the truth is too much and it weighs on you like a stone. But you haven’t done anything bad, Rivka. All you want is to feel good. Like any human being. And I want to help you.

  He writes in his notebook.

  Rivka: What are you writing?

  Alex: (reading) An anonymous source said, “Older women prefer not to talk about oral sex.”

  Rivka: I didn’t say that. You’re misquoting me.

  Alex: You’ve implied that by your action
s.

  Rivka: What are you writing this down for?

  Alex: My social studies independent project: the Cunnilingus Manifesto.

  Rivka: Good God.

  Alex: My father says no Israeli men like to go down on women.

  I say, that’s the problem right there.

  If Israeli men went down on Palestinian women.

  And Palestinian men went down on Israeli women.

  And if these men could put in the time, and do it well, the world would be a completely different place.

  I read that orgasms alter your DNA. Isn’t that what we need? A radical altering of perspective?

  Rivka: Please don’t tell me this is why you were kicked out of school.

  Alex: I saw the burning bush. It spoke to me!

  Climbs onto his desk.

  “From Jaffa to Jericho,

  Eilat to Eilon,

  You, Alexander, must go forth into the nation of Israel!

  And you will recruit five hundred men into your legions,

  and you will set forth upon the land,