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August 27, 2012

The Crystal Heart - A Vietnamese Legend Told by Aaron Shepard



NARRATOR 1:  Long ago, in a palace by the Red River, there lived a great mandarin and his daughter, Mi Nuong.
NARRATOR 2:  Like other young ladies of her position, Mi Nuong was kept indoors, away from the eyes of admiring men.
                           She spent most of her time in her room at the top of a tower.
NARRATOR 3:  There she would sit on a bench by a moon-shaped window, reading or embroidering, chatting with her
                           maid, and gazing out often at the garden and the river.
NARRATOR 1:  One day as she sat there, a song floated to her from the distance, in a voice deep and sweet. She looked
                           out and saw a fishing boat coming up the river. She asked her maid,
MI NUONG:  Do you hear it? How beautifully he sings!
NARRATOR 2:  She listened again as the voice drew nearer.
TRUONG CHI:  (singing in the distance)
                              My love is like a blossom in the breeze.
                              My love is like a moonbeam on the waves.
MI NUONG:  He must be young and very handsome. (with a sudden thrill) Perhaps he knows I am here and sings it just
                        for me!
NARRATOR 3:  The maid’s eyes lit up.
MAID:  My lady, perhaps he’s a mandarin’s son in disguise—the man you are destined to marry!
NARRATOR 1:  Mi Nuong felt a flush on her face and a stirring in her heart.
NARRATOR 2:  She tried to make out the man’s features, but he was too far off to see clearly.
NARRATOR 3:  The boat and the song glided slowly up the river and away.
MI NUONG:  (softly) Yes. Perhaps he is.
NARRATOR 1:  All day long, Mi Nuong waited by the window, hoping to hear the singer again.
NARRATOR 2:  The next day she waited too, and the next.
NARRATOR 3:  But the voice did not return.
MI NUONG:  (sadly, to MAID) Why doesn’t he come?
NARRATOR 1:  As the days passed, Mi Nuong grew pale and weak. At last she went to her bed and stayed there.
NARRATOR 2:  The mandarin came to her.
MANDARIN:  Daughter, what’s wrong?
MI NUONG:  (faintly) It’s nothing, Father.
NARRATOR 3:  The mandarin sent for the doctor. But after seeing Mi Nuong, the doctor told him,
DOCTOR:  I can find no illness. And without an illness, I can offer no cure.
NARRATOR 1:  The weeks passed, and Mi Nuong grew no better.
NARRATOR 2:  Then one day her maid came before the mandarin.
MAID:  My lord, I know what ails your daughter. Mi Nuong is sick for love. To cure her, you must find the handsome
                           young man who sings these words. (recites)
                              My love is like a blossom in the breeze.
                              My love is like a moonbeam on the waves.
MANDARIN:  It will be done.
NARRATOR 3:  And he sent out a messenger at once.
NARRATOR 1:  Days later, the messenger returned.
MESSENGER:  (bowing) Lord, in no great house of this province does any young man know the song. But I found in a
                           nearby village a man who sings it, a fisherman named Truong Chi. I have brought him to the palace.
MANDARIN:  (in disbelief) A fisherman? Let me see him.
NARRATOR 2:  The messenger brought him in.
NARRATOR 3:  The fisherman stood uneasily, his eyes wide as they cast about the richly furnished room.
NARRATOR 1:  For a moment, the mandarin was too astounded to speak. The man was neither young nor handsome. His
                           clothes were ragged and he stank of fish.
NARRATOR 2:  “Certainly no match for my daughter!” thought the mandarin. “Somehow, she must not realize . . . .”
NARRATOR 3:  He gave his order to the messenger.
MANDARIN:  Bring the fisherman to my daughter’s door and have him sing his song.
NARRATOR 1:  Soon Truong Chi stood anxiously outside the young lady’s room. He could not understand why they’d
                           brought him here.
NARRATOR 2:  What could they want? He was just a fisherman, wishing only to make an honest living. He had hurt no
                           one, done nothing wrong!
NARRATOR 3:  At the messenger’s signal, he nervously started to sing.
TRUONG CHI:  (singing)
                              My love is like a blossom in the breeze.
                              My love is like a moonbeam on the waves.
NARRATOR 1:  In the room beyond the door, Mi Nuong’s eyes flew open.
MI NUONG:  (to MAID) He’s here! How can that be? Oh, quickly, help me dress!
NARRATOR 2:  Mi Nuong jumped from her bed. Never had she so swiftly clothed herself, put up her hair, made herself
                           up. By the time the song drew to a close, she looked like a heavenly vision in flowing robes.
MI NUONG:  Now, open the door!
NARRATOR 3:  Mi Nuong tried to calm her wildly beating heart. She forced herself to stand shyly, casting her eyes down in
                           the manner proper to a modest young lady.
NARRATOR 1:  As the door pulled open, Truong Chi shrank back, not knowing what to expect.
NARRATOR 2:  Then all at once he found himself gazing on the greatest beauty he had ever known.
NARRATOR 3:  He felt his heart leap, and in that moment, he fell deeply, hopelessly, desperately in love.
NARRATOR 1:  Mi Nuong could not wait a moment longer.
NARRATOR 2:  She lifted her eyes to look upon her beloved.
NARRATOR 3:  And in that moment, her eyes grew wide and she burst out laughing.
MI NUONG:  (laughs in astonishment)
NARRATOR 1:  A mandarin’s son? Her destined love?
NARRATOR 2:  Why, he was nothing but a common fisherman! How terribly, terribly silly she’d been!
NARRATOR 3:  Shaking with mirth at her folly, she turned her head away and whispered,
MI NUONG:  (whispering to MAID) Close the door.
NARRATOR 1:  The door shut in Truong Chi’s face. He stood there frozen, the young lady’s laughter ringing in his ears. He
                           felt his heart grow cold and hard.
NARRATOR 2:  Truong Chi was sent home. But he could not go on as before. Hardly eating or sleeping, he grew pale and ill.
                           He no longer cared if he lived or died.
NARRATOR 3:  And so, he died.
NARRATOR 1:  The villagers found him on the sleeping mat in his hut. On his chest sat a large crystal.
VILLAGER 1:  What is it?
VILLAGER 2:  It is his heart. The laugh of the mandarin’s daughter wounded it so deeply, it turned hard to stop the pain.
VILLAGER 3:  What do we do with it? It is very lovely. Like one of his songs!
VILLAGER 4:  We should put it in his boat, and let it float down to the sea.
NARRATOR 2:  At sundown, they set the crystal in the fisherman’s boat.
NARRATOR 3:  Then they pushed the boat from its mooring and watched in sorrow as it drifted down the river and out of
                           sight.
NARRATOR 1:  But the boat did not drift to the sea.
NARRATOR 2:  It came to shore by the mandarin’s palace.
NARRATOR 3:  And so it was that the mandarin found it at sunrise as he strolled along the bank.
MANDARIN:  What have we here?
NARRATOR 1:  The mandarin reached in to pick up the crystal. He turned it over in his hand, examining and admiring it.
MANDARIN:  What a splendid gift the river has brought!
NARRATOR 2:  A few days later, when no one had claimed it, the mandarin sent it to a turner to be made into a teacup.
NARRATOR 3:  He brought the cup one evening to Mi Nuong’s room.
MANDARIN:  (to MI NUONG, handing it to her) A gift for my lovely daughter.
MI NUONG:  Oh, Father, it’s beautiful! I can hardly wait to drink from it!
NARRATOR 1:  When the mandarin left, she told her maid,
MI NUONG:  It’s late, so you can go to bed. But first make me some tea, so I can drink from my cup.
NARRATOR 2:  The maid finished her task and went off. Mi Nuong poured the tea, blew out the candles on the table, and carried the cup to her window seat.
NARRATOR 3:  A full moon shone into the room, and looking out, she watched the moonlight play upon the river. The scent
                           of blossoms drifted from the garden.
NARRATOR 1:  Mi Nuong lifted the cup to her lips.
NARRATOR 2:  But just as she was about to drink . . .
MI NUONG:  (in surprise and fear, staring into cup) Oh!
NARRATOR 3:  She quickly set the cup down on the bench.
NARRATOR 1:  On the surface of the tea was the face of Truong Chi, gazing at her with eyes filled with love.
NARRATOR 2:  And now his sweet song filled the room, familiar but a little changed.
TRUONG CHI:  (singing)
                              Mi Nuong is like a blossom in the breeze.
                              Mi Nuong is like a moonbeam on the waves.
NARRATOR 3:  And Mi Nuong remembered those eyes she had seen so briefly through the open door, and she remembered
                           her laugh.
MI NUONG:  What have I done? I was so cruel! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know. . . . I’m sorry. So very, very sorry!
NARRATOR 1:  Her eyes filled with tears. A single tear dropped into the cup.
NARRATOR 2:  It was enough. The crystal melted away, releasing the spirit of Truong Chi.
NARRATOR 3:  Then Mi Nuong heard the song one last time, floating off over the river.
TRUONG CHI:  (singing in the distance)
                              Mi Nuong is like a blossom in the breeze.
                              Mi Nuong is like a moonbeam on the waves.
MI NUONG:  (softly) Good-bye. . . . Good-bye.
* * *
NARRATOR 1:  It was not many months more when Mi Nuong was given in marriage to the son of a great mandarin.
NARRATOR 2:  He was young and handsome, and she felt that her dreams had come true.
NARRATOR 3:  Yet now, as she gazed on a different garden and a different view of the river, she often still heard the song of the fisherman echo softly in her heart.

August 23, 2012

Oli Impan by Alberto S. Florentino



     After the liberation of Manila, hundreds of indigent families settled in the squalid, cramped space of the bombed ruins of an old government building of Juan Luna. For more than a decade these “squatters” tenaciously refused to move out in spite of court rulings. The “casbah”, as the compound was popularly known, became a breeding place for vice and corruption. The city government was able to evict the “squatters” only on December 20, 1958 – five days before Christmas.
(On the middle of the stage, extending from side to side, is a stone wall one and a half feet high. At left may be seen a portion of a tall edifice. At right, is a portion of the “casbah”. Beyond the stone wall, an estero (unseen) – and the sky. A five-year-old girl sits on the stone wall, her thin legs dangling in the air. Offstage there is a continuous commotion of evacuation. A woman’s voice rises above the commotion as she reprimands a child for getting in her way. A six-year-old boy appears on stage walking backwards – away from his mother, nagging offstage. The mother quiets down. The boy turns around and plays with his toy: an empty milk can pulled along the ground with a piece of string.)
Girl: Is there a fire?
Boy: (Stops playing and faces her) Huh?
Girl: I said, is there a fire?
Boy: There is no fire. (Continues to play)
Girl: (Looks toward the street. After a pause.) I think there is no fire.
Boy: (Stops playing_ I told you there’s none.
Girl: There is.
Boy: How do you know? Do you see any smoke? Do you hear any fireman? (resumes his play. Runs around imitating a fire engine) EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I like it when there is a big fire!
Girl: (Worried) If there is no fire, why are they putting these things out? (pints to a pile of household belongings nearby)
Boy: Because we are being thrown out.
Girl: Who told you?
Boy: My mother.
Girl: Who is throwing us out?
Boy: (Sits on the other end of the stone wall) The government.
Girl: What is a government?
Boy: I don’t know.
Girl: You didn’t ask your mother?
Boy: I forgot to ask her.
Girl: Why should the government throw us out?
Boy: (Points to the compound) Because it owns this.
Girl: (Enraged) But this is ours!
Boy: No, it is not ours.
Girl: (Insistent) It is ours! It is!
Boy: It is not!
Girl: (A tiny scream) It is! It is!
Boy: (Loud) How do you know it is ours?
Girl: We’ve always been here, haven’t we?
Boy: Yes, but that doesn’t mean it is ours.
Girl: (After a pause) If they throw us out, we’ll have nowhere to go. How about you? You have any place to go?
Boy: None. But we will have one. (Proudly) My mother has a job.
Girl: She has?
Boy: Yes!
Girl: What does she do?
Boy: She reads hands.
Girl: She reads – hands? (Looking at her hands) Why does she read hands?
Boy: So she can tell what will happen tomorrow.
Girl: She can do that? By reading hands?
Boy: Yes, She can!
Girl: (Showing him her hands) Can she read my hands? I want to know where we will stay tomorrow.
Boy: She can’t read your hands.
Girl: (Looks at them) Why not?
Boy: They are too small… and dirty.
Girl: (She quickly withdraws them and quietly wipes them on her dress)
Boy: Besides… she reads only men’s hands.
Girl: Only men’s hands? Why?
Boy: Because they are big.. and easy to read.
Girl: How does she read hands? Like she reads the comics?
Boy: I don’t know.
Girl: You don’t know? Don’t you watch her?
Boy: My mother won’t let me. She makes me go out and play. And she closes the door.
Girl: She closes the door! How can she read in the dark?
Boy: I don’t know. (Proudly) But she can!
Girl: Don’t you ever peep?
Boy: No, I don’t.
Girl: Why not?
Boy: She’ll beat me up.
(Commotion offstage.)
Girl: What’s that? What’s happening there?
Boy: (Tries to see) I don’t know. I can’t see. (Pulls her) Come out, let’s take a look!
Girl: (Resisting) I can’t.
Boy: Why not?
Girl: My father told me to stay here. He said not to go anywhere.
Boy: (Turning) Then I will go and take a look.
Girl: (Frightened) No, don’t. Stay here. Don’t leave me.
Boy: Why?
Girl: I’m afraid.
Boy: Afraid of what?
Girl: I don’t know.
Boy: But how can we find out what’s happening?
Girl: Let’s not find out anymore.
Boy: (Restless) But I want to see. (Scampers up the stone wall) I can see from here!
Girl: What do you see?
Boy: (Incredulous) They are destroying our homes. (Sound of wrecking crew at work)
Girl: (frightened) Who are destroying them?
Boy: The men with hammers!
Girl: Nobody is stopping them?
Boy: Nobody.
Girl: But why? Are there no policemen?
Boy: There are. There are many policemen.
Girl: What are they doing? What are the policemen doing?
Boy: Nothing.
Girl: Nothing? They are not stopping the men?
Boy: No.
Girl: Why not?
Boy: I don’t know.
(Commotion. Shouts. Curses)
Girl: (Alarmed) What’s happening now?
Boy: (excited throughout) A man is trying to stop the men with hammers! Now the policemen are trying to stop him. They’re running after him. But the man fights like a mad dog! (A man shouts, cursing)
Girl: (Suddenly, with terror in her voice). That’s my father! (In her fright she covers her eyes with hands)
Boy: Your father?
Girl: Yes, he’s my father! What are they doing to him? Are they hurting him?
Boy: No, they are only trying to catch him… Now they’ve caught him! They are tying his hands!
Girl: What will they do to him?
Boy: I don’t know. Now they are putting him in a car. A police car.
Girl: (Whimpers) Father… Father…
Boy: They are taking him away! (A car with siren drivers away)
Girl: (Screams) FATHER! FATHER!
Boy: He can’t hear you now.
Girl: (Starts to cry)
Boy: (Walks to and sits beside her) Why are you crying? Don’t cry please…
Girl: They are going to hurt my father, aren’t they?
Boy: No, they won’t hurt him.
Girl: (Removes her hands from her eyes) How do you know?
Boy: I just know it. (Suddenly) Come, let’s sing a song.
Girl: I don’t know how to sing.
Boy: I’ teach you.
Girl: How?
Boy: I’ll sing… and you listen. (She nods and wipes her eyes dry)
Boy: (Sings) Saylenay…
Olinay…
Oliskam…
Olisbray…
Ranyonberginmaderenchayle…
Oli impansotenderenmayle…
Slipinebenlipis…
Slipinebenlipis…
Girl: (Smiling) That’s a pretty song. Who taught you that song?
Boy: (Proudly) My mother!
Girl: What does it mean? I can’t understand it.
Boy: It’s about God.
Girl: What’s a “God”?
Boy: I don’t know. I haven’t asked my mother. But she told me God was born in a stable.
Girl: What’s a stable?
Boy: A place for horses.
Girl: (Incredulous) He was born there? In a place for horses? Why?
Boy: My mother said he had nowhere to stay.
Girl: Was he poor?
Boy: I don’t know.
Girl: (Suddenly) I like the song. Will you sing it again?
Boy: No, let’s sing it together.
Girl: I told you, I don’t know how.
Boy: I’ll teach you. I’ll sing it a little… and you sing after me. (She smiles and nods)
Boy: (Sings) Saylenay…
Girl: Saylenay…
Boy: Olinay…
Girl: Olinay…
Boy: Oliskam…
Girl: Oliskam…
Boy: Olisbray…
Girl: Olisbray…
Boy: Ranyonberginmaderenchayle…
Girl: Ranyon…(She giggles) I can’t say that!
Boy: Let’s skip it. (Sings) Oli impan… n, skip that, too. (Sings)
Slipinebenlipis…
Girl: Slipinebenlipis…
Boy: Slipinebenlipis…
Girl: Slipinebenlipis…