The Fishermen E-Book

Chigozie Obioma

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 102

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

In a small Nigerian town, Ben and Obembe, along with their two older brothers, slip away to fish at a forbidden river. Unnoticed and carefree, they keep coming back until one day a madman's prophecy changes the course of their lives forever. Adapted by Gbolahan Obisesan from the Man Booker Prize-shortlisted novel by Chigozie Obioma, The Fishermen is a powerful allegory of brotherhood, vengeance and fate. It was first seen at HOME, Manchester, in 2018, before a tour of the UK including the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, in a co-production between New Perspectives and HOME. 'A remarkable, mythic book' Alice Walker on The Fishermen by Chigozie Obioma

Leseprobe

THEFISHERMEN

Adapted for the stage by

Gbolahan Obisesan

From the novel by

Chigozie Obioma

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Original Production

Director’s Note

Epigraph

Characters

Note on Text

The Fishermen

About the Authors

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

The Fishermen was produced by New Perspectives in association with HOME. It was first performed at HOME, Manchester, 19 July 2018, before a tour of the UK including the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. The cast was as follows:

BEN

Michael Ajao

OBEMBE

Valentine Olukoga

Director

Jack McNamara

Associate Director

Angharad Jones

Designer

Amelia Jane Hankin

Lighting Designer

Amy Mae

Sound Designer

Poetical Machines

Movement

Kitty Winter

Stage Manager

Ali Bakewell/Oran O’Neill

Production Manager

Alison Willcox

Casting

Vicky Richardson CDG

Director’s Note

Chigozie Obioma was just twenty-nine when his debut novel about brothers torn apart by a prophecy was published in 2015. The book was a global success, announcing him as a major new voice on the international literary scene. As soon as I read it I saw glimpses of a play. Yet given what hot property the book was, I never expected its celebrated young author to be so receptive and generous to a touring theatre company on the other side of the world wanting to turn it into a stage play.

From the beginning, the vision for the play differed considerably from the book. Whilst the novel is a family saga populated by many characters, the play boils the action down to just two people. We still meet the other characters, but only through the prism of two brothers who have lived through the story. I am fascinated with the idea that siblings hold traces of their wider family within them. An encounter between siblings can become a confrontation with one's parents or other siblings; a notion that gives this play its particular dramatic engine.

Gbolahan Obisesan has dived into the novel and found the play its own voice. Gbolahan grew up in Nigeria until the age of ten, which is also the age of the book's protagonist. He knows this world intimately and has captured its language in all its idiosyncrasy.

Our rehearsal room has been a place of complete collaboration, with two actors, Michael Ajao and Valentine Olukoga, building the show with myself and Associate Director, Angharad Jones, from the ground up.

We hope our distilled stage version captures the true spirit of the book and draws out its dramatic core. The dark story of the Agwu family has been an exciting place to live and we are delighted to be able to bring it to audiences, live for the first time.

Jack McNamaraArtistic DirectorNew Perspectives Theatre Company

‘There is no story that is not true… The world has no end, and what is good among one people is an abomination with others.’

Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe

Characters

BEN

OBEMBE

Note on Text

Lines in italics indicate that the brothers are role-playing other characters.

Stage directions are (italicised and in brackets).

Words of dialogue in [square brackets] can either be said or omitted.

A dash (–) indicates an interruption or change in thought/intention in dialogue.

A forward slash ( / ) indicates an interruption by another character, or lines spoken simultaneously.

An ellipsis (…) indicates a trailing-off of thought or a delayed response.

This edition features the full-length version of the play. A shortened version was first performed at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2018.

This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

1.

(At Omi-Ala, Nigeria.

BEN looks across the Omi-Ala river.

Sombre and relaxed.

OBEMBE arrives at the riverbank and notices his brother. He walks forward and stands parallel as they both look across the water.)

BEN. I thought we would never see each other again

OBEMBE. This is the… place I thought I would see you –

BEN. Omi-Ala –

OBEMBE. Water splits

BEN. It certainly does –

OBEMBE. I brought a gift –

BEN. A gift

OBEMBE. For our brother –

BEN. You brought a gift? –

OBEMBE. I just thought… it might… be appropriate –

BEN. Like a peace offering? –

OBEMBE. Exactly

BEN. I can’t see it –

OBEMBE. It’s wrapped – It’s what you do with a gift

BEN.…What is it?

OBEMBE. It’s rude to ask and anyway it’s not for you. That’s why I came here.

BEN. Of all places.

OBEMBE. Still as eerie as I remember. We were fishermen.

BEN. We were fishermen

(They look at each other.)

OBEMBE. We are fishermen. It’s good to see you brother.

BEN. I have dreamt…

OBEMBE. What? What did you dream?

BEN.…A different meeting. I imagine you also…

OBEMBE. Had nightmares.

BEN. Of all of the things I suffered for.

OBEMBE. We all suffered.

BEN. You disappeared.

OBEMBE. I suffered too –

BEN. The fact I am alive is a miracle –

OBEMBE. But you did it –

BEN. Once you get caught for a crime – you sort of don’t have a choice –

OBEMBE. Unless you run –

BEN. With a guilty conscience –

OBEMBE. And a sore neck from constantly looking over my shoulder –

BEN. If you don’t do the time – you’ll always be followed by…

OBEMBE. You resent me –

BEN. I don’t know – I haven’t made up my mind –

OBEMBE. So, you want to torment me –

BEN. if it helps –

OBEMBE. I don’t see how…

BEN. Of course you don’t –

OBEMBE. What’s that supposed to mean?

BEN. Why are you here?

OBEMBE. I needed to come –

BEN. Why?

OBEMBE. I brought a gift –

BEN. So what –

OBEMBE. Okay, I haven’t thought it through

BEN. What’s the point of talking to you?

OBEMBE. What do you want to hear?

(Pause.)

BEN. Could we have stopped it, changed it? (Pause.) Everything.

OBEMBE. How? – It was impossible –

BEN. You don’t know that –

OBEMBE. It was prophesied

BEN. The things that happened were –

OBEMBE. / Inevitable

BEN. / Incidental –

OBEMBE. You’re in denial –

BEN. I know what happened –

OBEMBE. So do I – You think you’re the only one affected –I’m affected – so was Mother and Father – so was –

BEN. The map of dreams.

OBEMBE. Ha! Father’s ascribed occupation for us.

BEN. I was going to become a professor.

OBEMBE. That’s not what you wanted to be.

BEN. You were supposed to be the family doctor – Boja a lawyer and Ikenna / a pilot

OBEMBE. a pilot. (With relish.) We all wanted to be the family pilot.

BEN. Yes, but no one, not even Father knew what I wanted to be.

OBEMBE. A veterinarian.

BEN. Ah, you remembered!

OBEMBE. Only because I looked it up in the Britannica Encyclopedia. I have the facts stored up in here – (Taps his head.)

BEN. What facts do you have?

OBEMBE. I remember a lot of things I’m sure you forgot –

BEN. Try me –

OBEMBE. Okay – why did we become fishermen? –

BEN. That’s easy…

OBEMBE.…So?… what’s the answer?

BEN. Because we stopped playing football –

OBEMBE. But why did we stop playing football?

BEN. We weren’t very good –

OBEMBE. Did we play football regularly?

BEN. Only when Father wasn’t around –

OBEMBE. But why?

BEN (as Father). Because academics are more valuable than sportsmen.

OBEMBE. It’s a lie –

BEN. Argue that with Father –

OBEMBE. But when did the games stop –

BEN. Now you’re speaking in riddles –

OBEMBE. because you don’t remember –

BEN. Whatever it is – what you’re thinking – the reason – I remember

OBEMBE. But you haven’t said it –

BEN. I don’t need to say it

OBEMBE. You are being evasive –

BEN. I can be what I want when I like –

OBEMBE. So you don’t remember the letter –

BEN. there are twenty-six of them in the alphabet – which one specifically? –

OBEMBE. The letter Father received from Yola –

BEN. Did you read it?

OBEMBE. Of course not – it was Father’s letter –

BEN. Why are we talking about this letter?

OBEMBE. You don’t remember – ? (As Mother.) We are not going to church today I have some things to do before your father leaves.

BEN. Mummy doesn’t sound like that – And her mannerisms are a bit more considered –

OBEMBE. It’s how I remember her –

BEN. Well you’re wrong –

OBEMBE. Why don’t you show me then?

BEN (as Mother). Okay… What kind of job takes a man away from–

OBEMBE (laughing). Okay… maybe drop your hip more

BEN. It’s in the voice okay – I have her voice, leave me –

OBEMBE (stifling giggles). well then, your portrayal is exceptional

BEN (flippantly). I know… (As Mother.) What kind of job takes a man away from his family?

OBEMBE (as Father). It is the bank – Do you want them to stop employing me?

BEN. Wow –

OBEMBE. What?

BEN. That was quite scary – You sound exactly like him –

OBEMBE. He shouted at me enough –

BEN (giggling). Yes that’s true –

OBEMBE. Okay, okay – where were we –

BEN (as Mother). But why are you being transferred? They know you have a wife and children – children I can’t raise by myself.

OBEMBE (as Father). And with the transfer, comes a different pay grade and we can raise the children more securely.

BEN (as Mother). So what? They can’t pay you for doing the same job here in Akure?

OBEMBE (as Father). Nigeria is a big country with expanding infrastructures – the Central Bank of Nigeria is part of that expansion

BEN (as Mother). So will your children – expand–especially while their father is away.

OBEMBE (as Father). Habba!

BEN (as Mother). Growing boys Emeka

OBEMBE (as Father). With school fees – not to mention clothes – food and rent for the roof above our heads.

BEN (as Mother). All that responsibility falls on you does it? Whether you admit to see it or not I work just as hard as you

OBEMBE (as Father). You run a fresh-food stall…

BEN (as Mother). A very reliable one – which requires a lot of due diligence in unsociable hours – on top of that – making sure the house does not burn down – literally – instilling respect and helpfulness into our children, but the rest is your portion.

OBEMBE (as Father). Okay so I’m asking you to cover me.

BEN (as Mother). I can’t do that indefinitely.

OBEMBE (as Father). Now you’re exaggerating – I will speak to the boys and they will deliver on my portion.

(They both laugh.)

You were eight.

BEN. I was nine and you were ten, Boja was thirteen.

OBEMBE. So Ikenna was fourteen.

BEN. We were both in the room when Father came in.

OBEMBE (as Father). Ikenna! Boja!

BOTH (as Boja and Ikenna). Yes sir?

OBEMBE (as Father). Obembe, Ben!

BOTH. Yes sir?

OBEMBE (as Father). Your mother and I have decided I will start living in Yola from this day onwards.

BEN. Yola? Where is that? Is it overseas?

OBEMBE (as Father). It is still here in Nigeria – In the central far east – Quite close to Cameroon

BEN. That far? – You might possibly see Roger Milla –

OBEMBE (as Father). Perhaps not out of my window but if he’s in Nigeria in the district I’m staying – yes, maybe.

BEN. If you see him, he must do his dance for you and sign a football for us.

OBEMBE (as Father). Nonsense – Listen, I came in to tell you – I don’t want you boys to give your mother any troubles whatsoever – I will call her regularly and if I hear any disappointing news and I mean any funny business at all – I will give you the guerdon for them – Now take this – (Handing them money.)

BEN. I wanted it to be proper bribe –big money– but it was just our pocket money.

OBEMBE. That allowance money was small shah – considering how long Father was away – even Ikenna and Boja just got one more note each than us. It was that letter that sent Daddy away, which meant we had more freedom.