CHARACTERS:
DISTRICT COMMISSIONER HALLOWAY: The British administrator of Oyo.
JANE HALLOWAY: His wife, attempting a "sympathetic" but shallow understanding of the natives.SERGEANT AMUSA: A "native administration" policeman, caught between his badge and his heritage.
SETTING:The veranda of the British Residency. The space is colonial, sterile, and sharply lit by hurricane lamps. The lush, chaotic sounds of the African night are muffled by the thick stone walls. On a record player, a scratched waltz plays, a thin, tinny sound compared to the drums heard in Act I.(HALLOWAY and JANE are dressed for a masquerade ball. They are wearing confiscated Egungun costumes—sacred, feathered masks and woven fabrics representing the spirits of the ancestors. They are "practicing" their dance steps.)
HALLOWAY: (Frustrated, stepping on his wife’s toes)Confound it, Jane! It’s the rhythm. This wretched drumming from the village is bleeding through the walls. It’s like trying to dance a waltz while a blacksmith hammers in your ear.
JANE: (Laughing)It’s the night air, Simon. It carries. But you must admit, these costumes are a triumph! We’ll be the talk of the Governor’s party. Imagine the look on the Bishop’s face when he sees the District Commissioner dressed as a "Pagan Spirit."
HALLOWAY:It’s a bit of fun, isn’t it? Shows we’ve got a sense of humor about the locals. Though I must say, the smell of these feathers is rather... pungent. One wonders what they use to cure them.(SERGEANT AMUSA enters. He stops dead at the sight of the costumes. He looks as if he has seen a lightning strike. He recoils, his hand instinctively going to his chest.)
AMUSA: (Voice trembling)Sah... Madam... I beg you...
HALLOWAY: (Not looking up)Ah, Amusa! Back from the market? I hope you’ve cleared those streets. We can’t have the Governor’s motorcade delayed by a mob of screaming women and drummers.
AMUSA: (Staring at the masks)Sah, the... the cloth. You are wearing the faces of the dead. It is not for the eyes of the living, sah. Not like this. Not for a dance of the white man.
HALLOWAY: (Turning, annoyed)Don’t be an ass, Amusa. It’s just fabric and feathers. I thought you were a Muslim now? I thought you’d put away all this "mumbo-jumbo" when you took the King’s shilling.
AMUSA: (Head bowed)A man can change his coat, sah, but he cannot change the skin of his soul. When the Egungun walks, the earth trembles. To wear it for play... it is to call the thunder into the tea-cup.
JANE: (Softly)Simon, he’s truly distressed. Look at him. Amusa, we meant no disrespect. We thought it was a... a tribute of sorts.
HALLOWAY:A tribute? It’s a costume, Jane! Let’s not get bogged down in native psychology. Amusa, give me your report. Is the "Weaver" behaving himself?
AMUSA: (Fumbling with a notebook, eyes still averted from the masks)They are preparing the transition, sah. The Weaver of Destiny... he says he follows the King tonight. The drums have reached the "Gbedu" stage. They say when the moon reaches the zenith, he will... he will "willingly depart."
HALLOWAY: (Snorting)"Willingly depart." They have such colorful ways of saying "suicide," don’t they? Well, I won't have it. Not tonight. It’s messy, it’s illegal, and it’s a slap in the face to British Enlightenment. If he wants to die, let him wait until the Prince has left for Lagos.
AMUSA:You cannot stop a river that has already reached the waterfall, sah. If the Weaver does not go, the world stays in the dark.
HALLOWAY:The world will stay exactly where it is, Sergeant! Under the law of the British Crown. Take four men. Go to the market. Arrest this "Weaver." If he tries to die, put him in a cell where he can’t find a rope. We’ll show them that life is a gift of the Crown, not a toy for their ancestors.
AMUSA: (A long pause, a look of profound sorrow)I will go, sah. But I tell you... you are trying to arrest the wind with a net of iron.(Amusa exits, his shoulders slumped. HALLOWAY turns back to his wife, adjusting his feathered mask.)
HALLOWAY:Now, where were we, Jane? One-two-three, one-two-three...(The tinny waltz music swells, but beneath it, the low, ominous thud of the distant drums grows louder, vibrating the floorboards of the Residency.
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