Bang Bang Bang (3 page)

Stephen

Amala / Child Soldier / Screaming Child

Bibi / Mother with sick baby / Mama Carolina / Female soldier

Mathilde

Soldier / Colonel Mburame / Innocent

Ronan / Michael

Vin

PROLOGUE

The DDH compound. North Kivu.

Democratic Republic of Congo.

NGO –
(
Pour La Défense des Droits des Hommes.
)
DDH.

June.

Sand and dirt floor. Plastic chairs and crates shoved against a door. Outside the compound gunfire crackles – a kind of chaos is gathering. Some high windows let in light.

Threatening shadows against the back wall.

Two Human Rights defenders –
SADHBH
and
MATHILDE
are huddled together.

MATHILDE.
Je veux Maman.

Je veux parler à ma mère.

SADHBH. Where is your phone?

MATHILDE. On the kitchen table.

SADHBH.
C'est très dangereux, trop dangereux. Attend –

MATHILDE. I need to tell her – I need to talk to her – in case.

SADHBH. Mathilde.

MATHILDE. It is nearly one hour and still –

The gunfire crackle gets closer.

Ca se rapproche.

SADHBH.
Ca vient d'où?

MATHILDE. Closer. Closer.

Are they in the compound? Do you?

SADHBH. Maybe not. Where did Vin go?

MATHILDE. He left the compound.

SADHBH.
Pourquoi?
Has he got our transport? Did Janvier take him somewhere?

MATHILDE. I don't know. I don't know. I don't want to be raped.

SADHBH. It's okay.

MATHILDE.
Je préfère mourir plutôt que d'être violé.

SADHBH.
Ça va aller, ça va aller.

The gunfire – loud and frightening – is now very close.

There are shouts of panic.

That's Janvier.

MATHILDE (
whispers
). They're in the compound.

SADHBH. Janvier has a gun.

The nearest safe room –

MATHILDE. Oxfam. We'd have to run across the courtyard.

There are shouts and a shot.

Jésus, Jésus, Jésus. Ils ont tué Janvier?

A walkie-talkie clicks into life.

SADHBH. I'll get the radio.

MATHILDE.
Me quitte pas. Me quitte pas.

SADHBH. It's just outside the door.

Mathilde? Don't go into shock. Pull back.

I need to talk to you. Can we be calm?

MATHILDE. Okay. Okay. Okay.

SADHBH. Good girl.

How much money have you got?

MATHILDE. About nine hundred dollars.

SADHBH. I have three thousand dollars in my travel bag, which is under my bed.

MATHILDE. We've got five cartons of cigarettes here.

SADHBH. Two bottles of whiskey.

MATHILDE. Passports.

SADHBH. Phones. Our phones. My laptop. Okay?

MATHILDE. Okay.

SADHBH. We give them everything.

MATHILDE. How many are they?

SADHBH. I can only hear one, two voices.

Maybe only two at most?

MATHILDE. Jewellery.

SADHBH. Okay? We give them everything and we talk to them.

MATHILDE.
Je ne veux pas.

SADHBH. We talk to them. Humanise yourself.

MATHILDE.
Non. Ne les laisses pas. Je ne veux pas.

SADHBH. Mathilde? Listen to me.

You keep them talking but tell them you are a married woman. You tell them you are a mother.

MATHILDE. This can't be real.

SADHBH. You talk about God.

You tell them they won't be damned if they leave now.

You talk about Jesus. This is what you have got to do.

Let me get the radio.

The door is kicked. Once. Twice.

The boxes, chairs and crates scatter. A
YOUNG MAN
in army fatigues and jeans enters. He is wearing a baseball hat. His nose and mouth are covered with a bandanna. He is jittery and hyped.

Mon Dieu, pitié.

SOLDIER.
La ferme.

SADHBH.
Je m'appelle Sadhbh, et ça c'est Mathilde.

Nous avons de l'argent. Beaucoup des dollars.

Je vous en prie!

MATHILDE.
Nous avons des cigarettes.

SADHBH.
Prenez tout.

SOLDIER.
Mettez vous par terre. Tout de suite.

Accroupies!

The
SOLDIER
knocks everything across the room – kicking the boxes, crates, chairs.

SADHBH.
Nous avons du whiskey. Prenez-le. Prenez-le, buvez le avec vos enfants.

SOLDIER.
Déshabillez-vous.

MATHILDE.
Non, non, je vous en prie. Nous sommes mariées.

Nous sommes mères.

The
SOLDIER
pokes the gun towards
SADHBH
's face.

SOLDIER.
Déshabillez-vous.

MATHILDE.
Non, non, non!

SADHBH.
Je peux vous donner l'argent.

Nous avons presque quatre mille dollars.

Prenez-le. C'est pour vous.

Dieu vous pardonnera, si vous partez maintenant.

SOLDIER.
Je prends l'argent.

Je prends les téléphones.

Je prends tout.

Et, ensuite, je vais terminer le boulot.

The
SOLDIER
points the gun.

MATHILDE
starts to cry.

The women begin to undress. They huddle together to hide their bodies.

On ne vous entend pas.

Personne ne vous écoute.

The light fades. The shadows close in.

ACT ONE

One

London.

An apartment in Holloway.

End of April.

Late Morning.

SADHBH
enters with an armful of clothes and books.
STEPHEN
, her boyfriend, is looking at some printed material while eating a doughnut and drinking coffee. There is a rucksack nearby. A Stetson-like hat hangs from it. She carefully packs the rucksack.

SADHBH. Stephen?

I bet we made a baby this morning.

Hey?

He looks up at her.

If it's a girl I'm calling her Saoirse.

STEPHEN. Saoirse?

SADHBH. Means freedom.

She'll not have your fat arse but she will have my legs. And she'll be beautiful like you but clever like me.

She pulls out a T-shirt from the pile of clothes.

STEPHEN. What are you doing with my T-shirt?

SADHBH (
smells the T-shirt
). To… remind me.

STEPHEN
watches her shove his T-shirt in her rucksack. He dunks his doughnut.

SADHBH
sits opposite him and starts up her laptop.

That's going to break off.

He eats the doughnut.

You can't saturate it and expect it to taste good.

STEPHEN. It does taste good.

SADHBH. Some of it's at the bottom of your cup.

STEPHEN. You distracted me.

SADHBH. I distracted you?

STEPHEN
scoops the doughnut from his cup with a spoon and eats it.

We hear shouting from off.

Is there more coffee?

STEPHEN. Sit.

He pours coffee.

We hear a muffled argument through the walls.

SADHBH. Did you hear?

STEPHEN. What's he said?

SADHBH. Fucking – (
Makes grunting noises.
)

A muffled crash.

Should we say something?

STEPHEN
knocks on the table.

STEPHEN. Oh, hello. I can hear you call each other all the bastards under the sun. Would you mind awfully keeping it down?

SADHBH. To the concierge. I meant.

STEPHEN. What can he do?

SADHBH. He could tell them that they can be heard.

You know?

And say if it's more than
just
an argument?

STEPHEN. It's flat life, Sadhbh. Music, cisterns, sex –

Messy lives.

The argument stops as abruptly as it started.

Do you hear that?

SADHBH. What?

STEPHEN Maelstrom over.

SADHBH
listens.

SADHBH. You're right.

STEPHEN. If you were here for longer than a week you'd understand the rhythm of flat life.

SADHBH. The rhythm of flat life?

STEPHEN. He's not killing her, Sadhbh. This is Islington. Or so the estate agent said.

SADHBH. Yeah? Well, he meant Holloway.

The rhythm of flat life?

SADHBH
returns to her laptop.

Why are you cross with me?

STEPHEN
shrugs.

You are cross with me?

You?

Why?

Pause.

STEPHEN
indicates the rucksack with his thumb.

SADHBH
gets up from her chair
–
takes the hat off the rucksack – puts it on and removes the rucksack from sight.

She re-enters.

STEPHEN. You're not going –

SADHBH. Right.

STEPHEN. – till Monday.

SADHBH. I don't even know why I –

Right.

They look at one another.
STEPHEN
resumes reading documents.

How's the Mandarin going?

STEPHEN.
Ni hao!

Qîng césuo zai nar?

Hello. Where is the toilet please?

SADHBH. All you need really.

She starts tapping the keys on her laptop.

Did
she
understand ‘the rhythm of flat life'?

Pause.

STEPHEN
looks at
SADHBH.

She resumes work at her laptop.

STEPHEN. Do you want to tell me about your lovers?

That Irish Foreign Correspondent –/

Ronan What's-his-name?

SADHBH. Are you crazy? I've never been with Ronan Fitzgerald.

He's fucked everything from here to Bujumbura.

STEPHEN. I should never have told you.

SADHBH
stretches out her hand to him. He puts it against his cheek. She pulls her hand away.

SADHBH (
picks up his remaining half of doughnut
). This is how you dunk a doughnut. Dunk, eat, drink.

She does so.

STEPHEN. What makes you a doughnut-dunk expert?

SADHBH. I had a scene with an aid worker from New York.

STEPHEN. When was this?

SADHBH. Way, way, way, before you.

STEPHEN. Oh yes?

SADHBH. He was very particular about dunking.

STEPHEN. I'm not sure I want any –

SADHBH. As you wish.

STEPHEN. – more information.

Pause.

SADHBH. Did she mind that you had a partner?

Pause.

Answer me.

STEPHEN. She didn't say that exactly.

SADHBH. What did she say?

STEPHEN. I can't remember.

SADHBH. Convenient.

STEPHEN. Truth.

She knew I was with you – obviously.

SADHBH. Why obviously?

STEPHEN
proffers the bag of doughnuts.

STEPHEN. Breakfast?

She takes a doughnut.

I didn't promise anything.

SADHBH. Seeing someone over a sustained period is a promise.

STEPHEN. Not to me.

SADHBH. For you it was a series of one-night stands?

STEPHEN. Well, yes.

SADHBH. Over three months?

Interesting moral code.

She takes a bite of her doughnut.

Did she talk about the future?

STEPHEN. I don't know what you mean.

SADHBH. The relationship?

Did she think you'd leave me?

STEPHEN. She couldn't possibly have.

SADHBH. Why ‘couldn't she possibly have'?

STEPHEN. We didn't have particularly in-depth conversations about who thought what and –

SADHBH. So – now you're saying –?

He dunks his doughnut.

STEPHEN. Look, can we drop it?

SADHBH. I want to know the facts. /

I don't want her –

STEPHEN. The facts are you're here.

You won't / ever meet her.

SADHBH. – having stuff over me.

STEPHEN. I never think of –

Can we drop it, please? Please?

SADHBH. No.

STEPHEN. The facts are you were away for eight months last year. I missed you. I was lonely.

I'd very much like my girlfriend to live in the same country as me.

SADHBH. The facts are you screwed someone.

She dunks her doughnut.

What's that you said?

STEPHEN. I didn't say anything.

SADHBH. The facts are you took a job at Shell.

STEPHEN. Fuck it, Sadhbh.

SADHBH. Sore point?

STEPHEN. I am a consultant on humanitarian issues for a risk-management group. Shell is a client. So shoot me.

SADHBH. You've gone over to the dark side.

STEPHEN. We can't both live on an NGO wage.

SADHBH. Such horseshit. I can live on very little –

STEPHEN. Horseshit? I'm paying the bills here.

SADHBH. It's you who –

STEPHEN. The fact is – you're about to go to the DRC for three months whether I like it or not.

SADHBH. You're going to China.

STEPHEN. For ten days.

I can't compete with your work.

SADHBH. Stephen. That's neither true nor fair.

STEPHEN. Horseshit.

SADHBH. No – it's that I can't cope with your work.

Can you see me hanging out with your Shell cronies?

Hey – there's a thought – I could lobby them at cocktail parties.

STEPHEN. I wouldn't mind that.

SADHBH. Lookit, [Now, look here,] Stephen.

STEPHEN. No. You look.

You know those women who prop up bars in Goma – who get stuck traipsing round the world's shitholes.

SADHBH. That is not going to happen to me.