Rasta Soldier.

ACT I Scene 1: John's Apartment

Two Black men are hanging out in an apartment room in NDG, Prud' Homme Avenue, listening to Raggae and calypso, and drinking beer. Kassim is a second year student at McGill, second generation Canadian of Jamaican back ground. It is the late summer approaching the fall. He is looking through the Gazette and the McGill Daily searching for an apartment. He is writing down prospective locations. John is a Jamaican immigrant of Rasta persuasion. But he does not dress or carry the hair style. Kassim.picks up phone and begins to dial.

Kassim: Hello. Is this TT Sparkles Realties? It says here in the Gazette that you have an apartment to rent, a one and a half. You not sure. Could you check it out...?. Yeh. I still here. So what 's the situation?.... No I not foreign.... hey, hey, listen. Is the one and a half still available? I am Canadian.... what that got to do with the price of coffee or a six pack, whatever...? I am not getting hostile. Yeh, yeh, ... I am listening (He listens impatiently. Then very deliberate and measured). Now, you listening? Ok. What yuh name? (repeats) Jean. Jean, listen to me, see. I know you got nothing 'gainst West Indians. I know that you met some of the guys in Diep.... of course they are fine guys, real fighters ... sure! I know that ... But, would you do me a favour, sir.... I understand. Sure no problem, Sure. Soon finish, no problem man ... Well, I was wondering, sir, if you could just stick the one and a half up your arse.... Do your best. He puts down the phone.

John: Bomba! What that all 'bout?

Kassim: Some cute son of a bitch. He don't mind rent to their Blacks. Their Blacks! But not West Indian. Especially Haitians. Blood Klaat. I don't even have a French accent.

John: And you still wucking on the Jamaican. I did tell you that, yuh know! But you nah ah listen

Kassim: Listen ah what?

John: When you ah do phone search for apartment in Montreal 101, speak White, French White. Yuh no read the papers them. No English in the corridors, no English in the cafeteria, no English in the school yard. All the signs them ah French. Eton's begat Eeeton.

Kassim: Shut up. Torrated!

John: You still tryin talk Jamaican, after what the man say to you.

Kassim: Piss off, John.

John: Now that is a good Canadian phraseology.

Kassim: I not joking.

John: I not joking. You got to understand what's going on. Looking apartment is some times like breaking into Hades. The gate-keeper is vicious. Be patient. Is a foolish daag what bark at a hawk looking for food. Best not let the hawk see you. You know what Indian them say. "White man speak with forked tongues," sometimes yuh make believe that you na hear what come out the other side ah dem mouth. You have to teach them how to live with stranger.

Kassim: Besides, I ain't no stranger. My mother is four generations Jamaican Maroon. Nova Scotian. My Jamaican Grandfather father fought to enlist in the Canadian Army while those cowards rebelled against the draft. I don't want to communicate with arseholes.

John: You use language like that and you confuse the man. If you are going to insult people they have to understand you. A man that is an arsehole, don't know that he is until he has made an ass of himself in him own eyes. Give dem rope dem will hang themselves.

Kassim: No. I want to slap the horse on its backside and watch the idiots swing.

John: Vengence is the Lord's. You not God.

Kassim: Why I upsetting myself anyway. Is you West Indians he don't want to rent. And look how calm you are.

John: Meditation, Kassim. A sip from the cup of reason brings wisdom and calmness to this logic. Well ... a drag on the weed of wisdom works too. (Kassim obliges). You know something Kassim. It does not hurt us to realize that the truth may offend us, but it is the truth. If you go behind what this guy saying in a funny way you might find a truth that is offensive but not really bad.

Kassim: what is this double dribble?

John: Image, style, impression. Man im kill you in the public coort! Dead! Dead! One should pay attention to things like, honour yuh mother and father; don't fuck your best friend's wife, don't abuse women, look after the children you father, floss, brush and bath everyday; don't ware your pants below your crutch, lace up your nikes, and do not walk through Westmount looking like the hooded rapist!

Kassim: What are you trying to say, Man. We take the cards we were dealt. We did our best. It is a question of survival. You just reach. You have no idea as to what it was like growing up in Burgundy and St Henri. Whose side you on anyway?

John: Nobody. I just saying we have some rotten potato in the crockas-bag stinking up the place

Kassim: Some times too much reason makes you foolish. I remind you. Is not we Canadian Blacks he sticking it to, you know. Is foreign Blacks. He say the last time he rent an apartment to Jamaicans they created a green field in the bed-room. It was a harvest of leaves reaching to the ceiling. Deal with the man. Is your country men under attack here. Your people

John: Ah! So is my people that is the problem, Jamaican blacks. Is we West Indians who come and spoil things. Upset the harmony between the races. Every body want to talk like Rasta, walk like they believe Rasta walk, sing Rasta song, dread up. But when problems come. Is Jamaican. Look here Jam-Can McGill Black bwoy. We have a saying ah the yard, "Is who laugh last, win." At least we not "their Blacks".

Kassim: Don't get snarky man. No offence. But is just that I find you getting soft. You even change your name from Ras-Tifi to John!

John: Corbeau cruise high in the sky On a Friday breeze. Him ah wait the right time to strike.

Kassim: You and I. We shouldn't be fighting (Phone rings).

John: Answer the phone man. Is for you. Answer the damn thing.

Kassim: Yes.... This is Cedric Johnston.... Who? (John on an aside: "Hm! Frying pan kalling cast iron pot black") Oh Mr Landeau's son. So what is the news?.... so you check with McGill housing.... you renting me or not. No problem. I can be there in a half hour. I know. Mount Royal. Near the mountain. Fine....

Kassim: (in a whispering voice). Johnston is a White man name. Tell the man you Black.

Kassim: In half hour. See you. (Hangs up the phone). I will not allow my blackness to enter this transaction. This daag barking at the hawk. 'Im will have for change him diet.

John: You new at this. Searching for apartments. Just trying to save you from a second surprise. Considering the name and all that ... This is not same as living with ma and pops at home in the West Island.

Kassim: Ok. I got the point John, or whatever (exasperated). I am not going to apologize for my presence in this City. You coming?

John: No. I do not want my presence to compromise you. I am not a local McGill Black man. I foreign.

Kassim: So you going throw that in me face forever.

John: Call me.

Kassim EXITS.

Scene 2. Back at John's Apartment Prud'Homme NDG

John is in his apartment, listening to Bob Marley and reading a book on Rastafarianism.

John: "The Jesus Government is subtle in its approach to the people. It seeks not to conquer the masses by forces of arms. Babylon and Jesus infiltrate the minds of God's children and bring their love backwards ..."

The door bell rings. John places the book on a chair and goes to the door. He opens it. Kassim and Joan appear and enter the room. They are both disturbed and clearly not talking to each other.

Joan: (To John) Speak to him. You are a man maybe he will listen to you

John: What's happening Kassim. (Kassim does not answer. He walks angrily across to the chair. Picks up the book and throws it across the room, and sits). Mr. Johnson, ...

Kassim: Don't call me Mr. Johnson. I am Kassim.

John: If you want to carry rasta name. First, respect I temple and its objects. (To both Joan and Kassim). Let reason prevail over anger and distemper. (He looks at the book to recall the action. Kassim goes and picks up the book. Places it on the table.)

Joan: Him head too hot see. (To Kassim) Listen to your friend. Him twice your age.

John: Almost. But not quite. What happen?

Joan: I just had was to stop them lock him up in police cell. And for what! Because some bigot just arrive here off the unemployment line in Shefferville e refuse to rent him an apartment.

John: I told you, tell the man you Black.

Kassim: He guaranteed. (To John). You witness. He guaranteed. Make me come all the way to Mount Royal to listen to his bull shit. "Nothing personal. I been to Jamaica. They are nice people. Greatest singers. The women. Oh la, la! Beautiful! Incroyable! But my boss! He not smart. Jewish. He tells me ..." don't rent to those people. Stupid.

But what can I do?" Then he looks at Joan and says to me. "You have good taste. She Jamaican?"

Joan: That's when I told Kassim. Let's go. And I began to walk away

Kassim: The idiot can't take a hint. He keep opening his mouth and shit keeps flowing out. "Boy those women can dance. Deyo deyeeeo ... come Mr Tally man Tally me Banana. Oh! la! la!". Then he starts singing that stupid song "Hot, Hot, Hot" and twisting up himself, hopping around like the God damn hunchback of Notre Dame. (Kassim imitates Landeau's Shefferville version of Ah feeling Hot, Hot, Hot). "You hot, I hot, we hot.... Ah feeling hot."

Joan: It was embarrassing. I beg Kassim for us to go. Because I could see where that was going.

Kassim: That is when I told him to shut up. Na ah spoil we culture.

Joan: John, it was shut up fifi Pepsi bwoy.

Kassim: I could sense it. That man was looking at me, and thinking "step and fetch it nigger".

Joan: Fair is fair. I didn't see how you got that. He is telling the man don't take him for a nigger. And I am there and I don't hear that. I see an idiot White man making a fool ah himself.

Kassim: It is what was playing out. Thesubliminal. Down in the unconscious. He was seeing a thick lip porcelain nigger on his front lawn. And you, as some Madagascan dameselle to be fingered on the auction block in old Montreal. He was checking out the merchandize. Read L'Esclave. It's all there. The bastards still circling the neighbourhood and St Antoine on Saturday nights

Joan: You reading too much, no pun intended, into the idiocracy. You imagine all this! Why you had was to attack the man with a chair?

Kassim: I could see it clearly. Hear them laughing and mocking us. It still happening. Black women laying it down for immigration papers. In the fifties, Black housewives took more than a servant basket of food back to Little Burgundy from West Mount mansions. And nobody would say nothing. Nothing! If aunt Tina was still with us today, she could tell you about that. You know what my father do? Nothing. His own sister. "We no want put we name in Black people mouth." That's what he said. So they know they could get away with this shit. Today I wanted to kill that man, when him rest him eye pun you. It was weird. I felt I could kill him.

Joan. So him rest him eye. He na touch. You are a McGill student and you talking about kill. You going into your second year. God put a brain in your head and you going waste it. Talking about killing some low life idiot. So yuh jealous. Man, look at me.

Kassim: This has nothing to do with jealousy.

John: We take the pain you offer us Kassim. We share it. But Joan has a point.

Kassim: It is innate. Part of their thinking. People like Landeau are the carriers for Nazi Skin heads hate. It is not enough for us to sign a declaration against racism. And feel good about it every March 21. We have to eradicate the causes, the racists, and the spawning grounds for racists. No body is going to do that for us. You got to do it yourself. The Jews understood that.

Joan: Time heals all wounds. But, you hear that fool fool talk. Because that is what it is, fool fool talk. I had a mind was to go shopping today. Something tell me stay home. Is a good thing. If I had gone shopping, you would not have found me home, and all now so you would ah been in the police cell lock up and waiting for your second phone call. Kassim, I want a smart man not an angry man. Angry man does only have hungry pickney. I is a Jamaican woman. So I like your style. But you nah see I mix up with them boy that feel gun solute on a Saturday night in a Raggae dance is manhood. Or that heaven on earth is being stoned on white angel or crack. Dem ah angry men. Them only use for women is as vessels for evacuation. You want to be like them: die young and keep Black pastors and Ferrons in funeral business; or spend the rest of your life in jail with batti man. Me speak straight up to you.

John: She is right. You listening to false dreads. Bad bwoy song preach revolution and impatience. But revolution is a trick devised by White man to give them an excuse to shoot down Black man. Even Malcom-X came to understand that after Mecca.

Kassim: You and Joan too long in this country. Winter take the Caribbean heat out ah your blood. Yuh chill. Life cushy. Your message always is stay calm. Sweep everything under the rug. Just like dad. But it will not go away. You were a rasta-man in JA. Ras-Tifi-I. You change it to John. Why?

John: I still a rasta-man. But I do not have to wear symbols and trappings to become the object of who I am. I come into the world naked I will go out naked. I don't want no sword in my hand like the Viking in the poem. Let me go as I came. In this country, these symbols mean something different. Violence. Thanks to the false prophets, demonizers of ganja. And the drug business.

Kassim: Maybe they have no choice. They are what the occasion demands. I am second generation Canadian. But I have heard the word in my household. They say we are the warriors, rebellious; that we carry the blood of the Maroons. My parents, aunts, uncles, grand pa and grand ma tell about how we beat the British and sign treaties. I read it in Missing Pages; how we help build the Citadel in Nova Scotia, put down rebellions in the Gold Coast; quite the Teddy boys in London. But, now, in this country, our culture has become folk lore. Material for the school tours of Black Theatre Workshop. I listen to our artists talk nice poetry. But we have simply escaped into the talk. It is like balm to pain. But I expect more from this country, my country. I intend to take them Rasta roots and make this country mine. Or there will be no country. You understand. No back to Africa for me John. And I ain't going back to JA.

Joan: You never been there. Like Africa it is merely symbolism. Romanticism. You and your one man army. Marching into the valley of death with your Rasta rod and staff. You watching too much damn Rambeau videos. Here (She takes the Book from the table and hands it to Kassim) Read what intelligent people have to say about "dread culture". If you want to borrow from your roots. Learn about it. Jamaicans not crazy you know. Rastafarianism not madness.

Kassim: I don't need you to lecture me about Rasta philosophy.

Joan: I could teach you a few things. This is not Taliban country you know.

Kassim: You and your Jesus people terrifying Black people every Sunday with fire and brimstone. Repent or else! No thank you. For you, life is simple. A pickney and a good man. But I want more than that.

Joan: A pickney. Yes. God knows yes. But if push come to shub, I could always go to sperm bank.

Kassim: What the hell that suppose to mean?

Joan. You figure that out. But I am not staying here for you to insult my religion and my God. Call me the next time you in jail. (JOAN EXITS). Kassim turns to John, quizzically.

John: Don't talk to me. Go talk to the woman.

Kassim: When she takes that attitude you cannot talk to her.

John: She has to cool down some time.

Kassim: True. But I don't intend to chase after her.

John: Ok.... What you going to do about the men in blue and the complaint?

Kassim: Don't worry.

John: What you going to tell Babylon Judge-man?

Kassim: I got connections if necessary. Landeau can be persuaded. He did not press charges. He is worried about the racism charges. I never touched the Man. Joan got in between.

John: So Joan save your arse.

Kassim: Joan saved his arse. Besides, we phoned the Company. They say they have no such policy. His son had to admit down at the station that he told me I had the room. Then Landeau who don't know when to shut up, say the room still available and blame the whole thing on the company. A cell phone call and case closed.

The telephone rings. John picks it up.

John: Jah love. Ises ... Yes he is here. (he hands the phone to Kassim)

Kassim: Hello.... Tony! How you know I am here.... Oh I see. Right now she is pissed off at me. You know! I suppose cycle problems.... So what's the problem? Shit! You not serious ... OK. OK. I am leaving now. (Puts phone down).

John: What's happening?

Kassim: A gang of Natzi Skin heads just kicked out the brains of my cousin. My cousin, Aunt Prisilla son. They kick the shit out of him. He was waiting for the 138 at Atwater. He was on his way home from visiting his sister at the Children's Hospital. Now he is dead. Dead at sixteen. Shit! What's the point? I got to go.

John: Sorry. Sorry. Can I help?

Kassim: No. Got to go.

John: Jah guide. Jah Love. (He bows several times).

(Kassim hoists his knap sack on his left shoulder, and hurries out of the door. John starts searching for the news on the radio. News Bulletin.)

"Race hatred and intolerance raised its ugly head in Montreal. A week of desecration of graves, preaching of hatred of Jews and Blacks end in the fatal beating of Black youth by Nazi Skinheads today. Sixteen year old Randy Johnston was...."

FADE

Scene 3: Kassim's Apartment

Scene opens at Kassim's new apartment. Kassim is in the apartment. His books are still in crates. He is putting things in place. Joan has dropped by after her registration to help. She knocks at the door.

Kassim: Come in. It's not locked. (Joan enters) I could do with some help.

Joan: What this. Is this the welcome I get (she goes to him and they kiss) that better.

Kassim: This man is always ready to please

Joan: add to that, "Please me".

Kassim: Of course.

Joan: (She starts unpacking and folding clothes) So getting an apartment was not that difficult after all. No body died. Nice location in Prince Arthur. Trendy ghetto apartment. Everything in easy reach. I am going to like it here.

Kassim: Invitation only! Thanks to you. They always less racist when it comes to a woman. For all the time I lived in this City, I didn't realize such neat housing is hidden away in the McGill ghetto. Had no reason to come this way.

Joan: Still has that feel of the old English upper class. Removed from the hustle and bustle of the mercantile core of the city.

Kassim: From the buying and selling of the slaves. And the memory of Angelique. Ever since that fire we have been isolated. Our territory limited, from the Windsor Train Station to Rockhead's Paradise, number 10 Police station, the Church. Atwater to the West. Des Seigneurs to the East. Sandwiched between the Lachine Canal and the Ville Marie highway. Cramped within stifling socio-geographic proximity to one another. As Langston says, "No crystal stairs". Yes this is sort of uptown and upscale from Burgundy.

Joan: Well! Do you like it?

Kassim: (Nostalgic) Sort ah missed the place when we moved to the West Island. Basket ball at NCC in that little gym in the back. Was like playing in a cage. Christmas. Used to be this Rotary Club White Santa Clause handing out apples and oranges. We changed that. Got ourselves a Black Santa Claus. The May West at the corner store, George Vanier, was good. Wash it down with a Pepsi soft drink. Cultural melt down. Not healthy, but tasting good. Track and field in the park, tap-dancing, our annual family Picnics. That ended in disaster. Twelve kids drowned. Theatre. The Negro Theatre Guild. Black theatre. I remember that play "Malcolm as he lived," written by one of Little Burgundy's own. Saturday nights time was dress time on St Antoine Street. Twenty three steps up to that "den of iniquity". And the folk had to pass inspection by that Jamaican man with the pin stripe suit and the red rose in his lapel. Rufus Rockhead. The Women them at Rockheads rocked. The white folks loved it. But of course, some high coloured yella Negroes kept to themselves. The Coloured Women's Club. Sepia Girls. And the Montreal Citizens Association with its five university graduates. They were beacons of respectability. Big-big Sunday mawnin come, you say "good day" to them people, and they might answer you. Wasn't all bad. You had something to aim for.

Joan: I must admit I got to know very little about that side of town. Now its all disappearing. Condos going up. The NCC building disintegrating. My mother was so protective. You know she used to refer to the "Coloured" people, her words, in Little Burgundy as St Antoine Negroes. As distinct from, "We Jamaicans". Before her not infrequent moral instructions, she would say to me: "You me pretty likkle girl chile" then "You walk in the light of the Lord, chile. You might be poor but you aint no St Antoine Negro."

Kassim: Yeah. There was that. The place had a reputation. Time was, Taxi blow through Burgundy like a high wind. Leave you standing in the dust. Unemployment, booze, brawling, nights and weekends in jail, pimping and prostitution. Can't deny that. But we had a community. The women formed a rescue committee to search for their men when they didn't turn up by weekend. Course some of them were found in the wrong places. But, mostly held in some police station. But the community had pillars: Union United Church, UNIA and its Garvey movement, the Knights of Columbus stood for economic brotherhood, and some upright families. The Packwoods was a well known family. It produced some diamonds: Reverend Este, Stanly Clyke, Oscar Peterson, Oliver Jones, and of course Charlie with his fiddle and his big ass African pendant in pure gold. His big Black fingers running down them strings lacing the body of his fiddle. Eyes closed. Humming. I think Charlie thought that fiddle was a woman. (Pause) did your mother ever get around to saying "Black people"?

Joan: No. She still at Coloured folk.

Kassim: My dad sliding between Coloured, black and Negroid. The negroid people! (Pauses and looks around). Guess I better start the unpacking. That is another problem

Joan: In case you didn't notice I have been doing that. Alone. I suppose these things need a woman's touch and imagination.

Kassim: I need your touch. With my imagination.

Joan: I think I will tackle this. (Kassim approaches seductively) The books, Kassim. (She begins to unpack the books). Got to get these on shelves.

Kassim: Leave those there. They going into storage.

Joan: What you mean, going into storage?

Kassim: Come here I want to talk to you. I have been doing some reading (He goes into his knapsack, takes out a paper back and opens it).

Joan: I don't like the sound of this.

Kassim: Come here woman (Playfully). Let me read to you. Words of wisdom

Joan. Kassim You have to plant fertile seed first, before you get children to order around.

Kassim: Gal I am trying. But it take two to tangle.

Joan: What it is you want to read to me.

Kassim: "Dread" with introduction by Rexy. Remember.?

Joan: Yes but everything has a place and time. Time to settle in and take advantage of the opportunity that the Quebec Board of Black Educators and Da-Costa made possible. Chances like that don't come easy. Fees and books paid for a year!

Kassim: Yes. True. I appreciate that. But I have been reading this book. That you urge me to read. And I been thinking about some of the things Dr Leo taught us at Da Costa about the Garvey back to Africa movement, and the conflict with Garvey and the Dubois boys. I like Garvey, he was a doer, and a Jamaican too. But the Rasta is a spiritual warrior. Everywhere he prove that. Rasta is an agent of change, carrier of the culture

Joan: Look, now is time to unpack these boxes and get ready for the semester. Dread no change we economic conditions. Rasta hunt agouti and agouti hunt snake and chicken fowl. Them know nothing bout finance.

Kassim: Come, sit down. Me ah change that. Sit down let I and I chat seriously.

Joan: Ok. Let you and I chat. I leave Jamaica when I was ten years old. I am now twenty two. Thanks to you, this is the only year I aint go ah visit me yard.

Kassim: Yard! As in ...

Joan: ... in back home, bwoy. You don't hear me talking this I and I jah talk. Every day you look more and more like a Kingston dada head sandal man, come down from the hills begging a meal. You born here Kassim. Rasta is a JA thing.

Kassim: What where I born have to do with anything. Peter Tosh say we are one people, African. (mimicking Peter Tosh) No matter where you come from. No matter what we plexion, high brown or low brown. We ah one people. We ah African.

Joan: (Also mimicking Tosh) Rasta man, "ah tell me who ah killl Peter Tosh? It nah the White man ah kill Peter Tosh. You born in Reddy Memorial. Don't even know where half-way-tree". Never been ah yard. Montreal street lights is the suns you know; and the moons you make love by at night. How you could be dread? You want reason with I woman?

Kassim: Is that self I say.

Joan: When man so facety to tell woman im want she. Him have no time to dabble in anti-work life styles. Black pickney in this country need a father with brain between him ears, not lice. I hope this Rasta stuff is a passing style. The poetry of hot love. Because things happen and with them come responsibility.

Kassim: What's all this talk bout pickney. You trying to tell me something. You not off the pill?

Joan: You could do something about that. Don't panic. I am not pregnant.

Kassim: I not panicking. You know me I always do the right thing by you. I don't want your old man to shoot me down.

John: My old man! Leave him out of this. He is a memory best forgotten. All you men is the same thing. Jah-man-Rasta-man, Canadian man, Blackman, (1) Whiteman, you think the same, that woman sitting down waitng for you to do right by them. Is that what we about? (Kassim attempts to respond but is sharply cut off). Let me tell you something. If I am pregnant, don't feel you have to do anything you don't want to do. And don't be so presumptuous to think that I will want to continue this relationship.

Kassim: All I am trying to say is that it is not the time to talk about pickney. I am thinking about quitting University. I did not register for the semester. I was going to but I am not sure about what I want to do. What is all this studying for any way?. Look at Rodney. Cut down at sixteen. A waste. He practically grow up in our house. Was like my younger brother.

Joan: Life don't always reveal to us the "Wheres" and the "Whys." Give it time. But. you still have your life to live. Don't give up now. You had a good year. If money is a problem I can help out

Kassim: It's not money. I need time to think things through. I need answers to questions. What is it all about? Aunt Pricilla worked half her life night shifts at the Royal Victoria Hospital to give him a chance in life. Worked her way up from the kitchen. That boy could ah been any thing he wanted to be. And these mutants take him out. And for what? What did he do? He was just waiting for a bus to go home. For God sake!

Joan: Rodney's death was unfortunate. I saw and felt the pain on his mother's face. The pain will subside 

Kassim: The pain ah nah subside so you know. It systemic. Somebody have to stop it. The guys I hung out with still in the Pointe, Cotes des Neiges, unemployable. Pressie just got out of jail. Anthony stealing cigarettes, and emptying Black people apartments, Marcellus picked off, a case of mistaken identity. Black pimps in the school yards, poor people zonked out on drugs and gambling. I don't feel comfortable up here, in this intellectual White man Ghetto while the killers of my cousin out there free to kick another ethnic skull in.

Joan: But you can't help all your friends. Some of these guys are bad eggs. Save yourself before you save the world. What does the airline hostess say to her passengers? "Put the oxygen mask over your face first, and adjust it. Then put the second mask over the child's face ..." Finish your degree first Kassim. Then you have all the time to figure things out. My mother always say, "when you have roof over yuh head and pickney got food in im belly, then is time to dream". (Joan is aware of Kassim's reaction to Pickney) Figuratively speaking.

Kassim. Finish my degree! I wish it was so simple. It easy for you. You could always say "I go back to JA, see." But where do I go? Where does Franco go, and Roy. We born here. You say Rasta philosophy is a style. Is I-relevant. But maybe a straw is all a drowning man can afford. And right now Rasta words make sense to the I. Look around. Global warming is the fire and damnation Rasta preach. We raping the earth of its naturalness, dissolving the atmosphere; poisoning the rivers and the lakes; killing the trees, the fish and the birds. We are reaping the rewards of greed and the wages of sin.

Joan: You can find evil everywhere if you look long enough. Please. Don't throw away the chances for a good education and a promising future by giving importance to illiterate lazy man poets, and their high sounding prophesies. Them just letting off frustration

Kassim: Rasta and environmentalists at one on these things. Way back then Malthus said the same things. Malthus was White. So nobody said he was crazy. Now we study him at McGill .Listen to this. Tell me if these are the words of illiterate men. This is a quote from Ras-Disi-I-Black-Heart. (Setting changes with focus on Kassim as a Rasta preacher) "The Jesus government is subtle in its approach to the people. It seeks not to conquer the masses by forces of arms. Babylon and Jesus infiltrate the minds of God's children and bring their love backwards. The leaders of both church and state are hopelessly reprobate, and their criminality is compounded by its entry into the spiritual realm. They are superstitious criminals. They are spiritual crooks. Religious criminals." (Setting reverts back to original). When you consider the criminality of priests against young boys; Black pastors making off with the offering and breeding young girls; the church taking Indian children away to colonize and abuse them; Martin Luther King spreading the word with his dick--don't get me wrong, I love the man. Mussolini raping God's land Ethiopia with the Blessing of the Pope. With all that proof, how could you say Rasta writings come from illiterates, letting out their frustration.

Joan: How could you say these crazy things. You can't possibly believe this nonsense.

Kassim: This is the McGill ghetto. You challenged me to the reasoning. Remember? "You want to reason with I Woman"! That Was your challenge. Is you who instructed me to read this book. Why is it so difficult to believe that Rome-Christ is an imposter; that the most mighty Halle Salasie--I is the true redeemer, the one truth. That Ethiopia is the cradle of Christianity, not Rome and the Catholic Church.

Joan: (Almost hysterical) I believe in Jesus. He is my personal saviour. I believe in the blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of Christ. He that walk in the light of the Lord shall inherit the kingdom of God. Get thee behind me....

Kassim: Satan?

Joan: Look. We had better terminate this conversation.

Kassim: Reasoning.

Joan: Whatever. (She grabs her bag and is about to leave. He grabs her by the arm. She freezes in her position).

Kassim: Go down, to Pope Paul I say, go down to Pope Paul I say, go down tell them priests And your pastors That Rasta man is God.

Joan: Let go me damn hand, Kassim.

Kassim: Come on Joan. Have a sense of humour. At least keep an open mind on other possibilities. You are a University educated woman.

Joan: I go to University to learn useful skills not my faith. My faith is not something for you or the University to tamper with. And don't you forget that.

Kassim. OK. But I can recognize you have eyes. Beautiful soft brown eyes. But you refuse to see. And I can recognize that the lobes of your ears put to shame the pearls that hang from them. And my lips tremble as I draw irresistibly close to them. But you have plugged them least you hear my whispers. And understand my true intent....

Joan: Go to hell. You damn snake. (She pulls away from him and rushes out the door)

Kassim: Adam, the snake? What you want from me(Joan exits). Women. You shouldn't have conversations like this with them. This definitely did not work.... (Kassim lights a spiff. He goes over to the radio cassette player and puts on a Peter-Tosh, "Igziabeher. Kassim sings and grove with the music).

   I call on you
   Solomon
   Let Jah be free
   Let Jah be free.

   Show us your wisdom
   Let Jah rise
   and scatter the enemy,
   putow, putow,
   Scatter, Scatter
   Scatter the enemy

   Bring down the temples
   Throw out the gamblers
   let Jah be feared
   praise. Him,
   praise Him
   Igziabeher
   Let Jah be praised
   Let there be light,
   and let the light
   fill the spirit
   of the righteous;
   let there be love,
   let Jah be praised".

(Suddenly the door opens and Joan makes a reappearance. She walks over to the radio-player and switches it off. Then turns to Kassim)

Joan: So tell I. Are you goin feed our child on I-tal food or wholesome food. That is supposing we have a child. You capable? (Kassim tries to reply) Shut up. I want a child that will grow normally, with strong bones. That come with adequate calcium intakes: University education woman says she want she pickney to go to real doctor. And get shots to protect it from diseases. I don't care whether the world full of disease because of man transgression. That is reality. But I want my child to benefit from the White man medicine that fight them disease. Because I can't wait till Black man fixed he brain to deliver that medicine. And another thing. The child will have a regular catholic christening, a normal Canadian name. No Ras-Dizi-Negus-Hailie-I-Sallassie-I. It tough enough being Black in this country to have to go through life with names like that. Do I have an understanding on that?

Kassim: What child you talking about. You just tell me I no plant no fertile seed. Now you talking bout child. You pregnant or not?

Joan: That is not important. I want to know if we have an understanding or not.

Kassim: About what? An agreement just in case we have a child. This is madness Joan. We never even talk bout marriage or any such thing.

Joan: What marriage got to do with it? A woman got to think about these things. All you men concern is with planting your seed. Scoring. But you don't think about these things.

Kassim: I not planning a child, Joan. I can't answer questions about a hypothetical child. That I may or may not have. A seed that may or may not sprout.

Joan: You mean you not intentionally planning. You don't have to have a child or plan to have a child to answer. I want to know where you stand.

Kassim: You know what I think? These Rome people confusing you. These people see us as devils. How could you ask me to trust the soul of my child with these Jesus White men. This is madness yes. Now you have me talking nonsense bout child I no have. Or no body tell me bout yet. Time come. I make a decision

Joan: I would settle for we (make a decision). After all is I who have to carry the child.

Kassim: Carry?

Joan: I am the possible mother. Am I not? You going breast feed the innocent infant when it open mouth to yam?

Kassim: But who plant the seed and nourish it while it grow? Who go protect him as im pass through the trails of Babylon?

Joan: Man can't always be sure that what him plant him nourish. Him have to be there to do that. (There is a moment of silence). Every child should have a normal name. You don't think so? And a proper christening.

Kassim: Our child ... (Kassim stops abruptly). You hear this foolishness. You hear me! You have me talking stupid ness. In any case, no child ah mine, if there is such a happening, need the Church of this and that. He will have knowledge. Knowledge of the self. Deep truth.

Joan: And that is another thing. Who say it will be a boy.

Kassim: Deep wisdom. Deep wisdom. Look in me eye. Deep though the gates. What you see. (Joan draws close and looks deeply)

Joan: I woman.

Kassim: Then let you and I seek the truth. (Music begins. They dance)

Joan: (Kassim is nibbling on Joan's ears). I hear it said in Rasta circles that eating meat, even fish not good for Rasta man.

Kassim: Is that so?

Joan: But I read some where, how meat does make man aggressive and sexy. They say when Rasta not eat meat, him could live with a woman for a year and not bother her. I don't know that I like this meatless diet. What you think bout it?

Kassim: That is a state of consciousness that only a few have ever attained. I am a worrier not a priest.

The Music continues and they dance passionately.

FADE.

Scene 3. Subway Scene between Georges Vanier and Lucien L"Allier.

MUSIC: Hard Rock urban music. Grotto and cavenous sounds. A weird windy sound adds subtext. This is done with masks and dancers. Choreographed movements depict turmoil and struggle in the unconscious realm.

There are two skin heads wearing studded leather jackets. Sleeves cut off at the arms. Black army boots that look like they have kicked many an arse; and cause a lot of concussions. They look psychotic and straight out of hell. They are sitting not going anywhere. One has the sense they are waiting for a victim. They are sitting on benches separate by about ten feet of platform space. Kassim, Tony and Pressie, backed up by a recruit, rushed them from two ends. Isolating each Skin head.

Dancer 1: Where are the dogs? You left the gates of hell open (strikes blow).

Skin head 1: We are the dogs. We guard the pits of hell.

Dancer 2: Guess what ! We are here to take you out (strikes blow).

Skin head 2: Hell is every where. You cannot drive us out.

Dancer 3: Yoh. And this is Burgundy. Bad ass Burgundy(strikes low).

Dancer 1: (strikes blow). The gates are closed. No one leaves till the battle is fought and we done won.

The skin heads are surprised, bloodied and overwhelmed. They jump on to the sides of the track s and escape up the tracks into the tunnel. [All exit].

Scene #4. AT John's Apartment

Joan is very upset and nervous looking. John is sitting in a chair observing

John: Cigarette?

Joan: Yes. I shouldn't. But yes. (He searches room for cigarette.). Have you got a light. I haven't been smoking recently. Trying to stop the habit. Kassim does not like me smoking. Says tobacco poison the body.

John: Sure. Good idea to stop. By the way this is an old pack. Can't guarantee the quality of the smoke. Hardly smoke the things. Can I get you something to drink. Coffee, tea, 7-up....

Joan: I will have the 7-UP or sprite. (She draws on the cigarette) I shouldn't be bothering you. I will finish the cigarette and leave.

John: Oh no. You not leaving here until you calm down and relax. You not bothering me. Here (gives her the seven up and a glass).

Joan: Thank you.

John: Well if you feel like talking, you should talk. Talk is good. Never be afraid to talk. You in the presence of a friend, your country man.

Joan: I know that. And I appreciate your saying it. (She pauses for a moment reflection). It is true. My mother always says. Be careful. You play with fire you get burn. I thought I could handle it. I really did. I was going to be in control. I knew what I wanted. No man was going to interfere with that. I don't mean that I was rejecting companionship and a normal sex life. A family? Of course not. Having a family is big in my plan. But things Were going to be orderly, smooth, my way. And I was not going to be a slave to my emotions. I am boring you with woman talk.

John: No. No. Talk. It's good to talk. I am a good listener.

Joan: My mother had done all that for me. Like my redeemer. I was not going to suffer what she went through. Because I was going to be in control of all aspects of my life. That woman loved my step father. He just did not deserve so much loyalty and love. She was afraid of not having a man. After my father deserted us. He just never followed us to Canada. Stayed in JA begetting. Well. She blamed herself for years. She lost confidence in her self. Questioned her beauty. She became lonely, and desperate for love. Then my step father came along. Real charmer. Gradually, I saw her become a slave of her fears, and insecurities; and trapped by her sexual needs. Took me a long time to get adjusted to the fact that my mother enjoyed her sex so much. Boy was she noisy. Parents are not supposed to have a good time, I suppose. I could hear her moaning and groaning in the bedroom like clockwork every Thursday night. Then the week ends came and she was always left to wait, while he claimed he played dominoes in the association Jean Talon clubhouse. Drinking himself stupid and useless to her when he did get home. That is if he got home. This was not going to happen to me. No sir. I was going to be in control. Right.

John: A man, woman too, come to the truth only by pain and tribulation. Don't despair daughter. Pain will make you strong. Meditation will lighten the burden.

Joan: Then why am I shaking like this. I am mortified. Has he lost his mind. He talks about being a defender of justice. A gang is a gang John. That is what it is to me. They have taken the law into their hands. He is going to die. I know it. I could feel it. Can't you put some sense in him head. He listens to you. (Almost as an aside) why is he doing this to us?

John: It will pass.

Joan: Yes. When he dead. He was wounded last night. Grazed in the arm with a bullet intended for him. Say he was in a scrim with skin heads. I dressed the wound myself. He couldn't even go to a hospital. What kind ah life is that. What kind ah skin heads these any way. You ever hear of skin heads fighting with gun?

John: Fear, turf, trading rights, and ooman could escalate or stop a war.

Joan: No. This is not a woman thing. I begged him to stay. I wanted to take care of him. Feed him. I wanted him. He left talking crazy talk about how Babylon man is a wicked man. And we must stop these false imitations of man. He and that jail bird Pressie left by the fire escape. What is he doing in the company of Pressie. The pusher. Do you know Kassim is carry gun now. I saw it. Touched it. (facial expression of horror). Oh God, help him. I wish I didn't care. I wish I could say I don't give a damn. I feel so helpless.

John. Love is selfless.

Joan. I don't have the endurance for that. Talk to him John. I beg you.

John: Yes. But I warn patience. For he will linger in the long and dreary alleys, till he ready to listen to the sound and power of reason. Patience daughter. (Joan begins to retch). Are you OK?

Joan: Can I use the wash room?

John: Sure. Take all the time you need

Joan goes off stage. We hear her retching in considerable discomfort. Then the sound of a running tap is heard. John pours some more Seven up in her glass. She enters.

Joan: I am sorry.

John: Here have some of this. It will settle your stomac.(She takes it). How long have you been feeling like this. I mean ...

Joan: I am fine now ... really! Its my nerves. I haven't slept all night. Thanks for listening ... I feel embarrassed, imposing on you like this. Oh dear ... my poor mother. She would kill me.

John: My lips are sealed. I will arrange reasoning with Kassim.

Joan: I must leave now. Jah love.

EXITS

SCENE 6: THE REASONING AT JOHN'S APARTMENT

The Room is dimly lit. The sent of incense burning is every where. The light coming off the walls give a sense of uterine quiet. You could almost hear the heart pumping blood to feed the brain. John is dressed in simple working class clothing that is in stark contrast to John's dreads and western style African ceremonial wear. They sit opposite each other. A square handed down teak coffee table separates them They roll mariwanna cigarettes and smoke in inner thoughtfulness. In the background we hear a DVD of Peter Tosh: Fire Fire Babylon burning they have no water.... who you goin run to ain't have no mercy ... stand up and fight it ... See the fire burning.... and you don't know whey you turning".

John: Sometimes a man needs a woman in him life to give it naturality. A man needs an experience that larger than himself, if he is to come one with the infinite Jah-high, and the fulfillment that I and I put here to claim.

Kassim: Irie. But when man and woman cannot twain become one flesh, one body, I man must do what man must do with a single mind, never fearing nor answering to the frailty of the flesh.

John: Last week. The Community Contact say anti-skin heads clash with Nazi-Skin heads. You hear that?

Kassim. Rumour! Hear say so! The Gazette verify that?

John: I hear that bullets exchange. One young man was shot. A White boy. That three blue eyed blond men turn up at the Jewish General emergency holding them guts in them hand like tripe in Friday spaghetti soup. You hear anything bout that?

Kassim: May be.

John: I hear a lot of blood was in evidence. You wouldn't happen to be a witness to that?

Kassim: Could be that I was in the belly of the snake.

John: I hear say that snake opened it mouth at Plomondon and three Black men escaped. ( Pause. Looks at Kassim in the eye) Brother, I fear the consequences of your activities. Rumour say that drugs are moving, and confusing. I fear for your life.

Kassim: Confusing who is the issue. Jah protect. Don't bother brotherman. Bullets kill the body. But they cannot kill the word, for the word is Jah. His work must go on. Is that I come to reason with you bout. The youth need your guidance. We are scattering the evil ones. Babylon is crumbling in the street and the metros, but our youth need to be guided thrmought the righteousness of struggle

John: If Babylon is crumbling, give thanks, Ises to the eternal truth. Evil destroys itself, it has its own hit men. it don't need guns in the hands of school boys.

Kassim: You used to be a Rasta in JA.

John: True.

Kassim: Then why you won't help us. Revelations is just rhetoric if you sit and think and think and never act. You fought for your rights in JA. You stood up for your rights. But here you are silent. There you were Ras-Tifi-I. But here you have changed your name to John, cut your dread locks. You hear no evil, see no evil, you are grateful for just being here. In a country where only the rich and the powerful have rights. Rastafarianism that sit and do nothing is a Black man sell out.

John: Do not be blinded by rage and arrogance. Rasta knowledge is natural. It needs no arms, no tanks, no navy. Strip from I and I my clothes, my worldly possessions, my taste, my sight, my locks, yet I disciplined and focused like the strength of Jah in Sampson will scatter the oppressors. But this is not Rasta Country and Rasta time.

Kassim: You wait for a free and natural Africa. But who will free Africa, if like the wicked and lazy servant you wait and do nothing. Africa starves. Ethiopia starves again and again. Our brothers await Malthusian death winged on by the music of buzzing flies. We spin disk about Black love and dignity, but the children them of Africa die. And we only remember the star studded TV photo-ops and the media clips. The enemies of Africa are not scattered. They are consuming Africa. Jah is the voice of the poor crying out, Act now.

John: Jah is beyond the now. An eternity of suffering in this world is a short time to wait to enter the place he is preparing. I do not second guess Jah, God Almighty. It may be that Africa is being consumed now. It may even be that the world will disappear, Puff, Before anything change. A wise Rasta knows that "not every day our Father going leave the horse in dry pasture to starve and test its endurance. One day he will grow green grass for the horse in the presence of them that wait to see it die. This is not a race for the swift and the impatient, but for them that trust and I-dure.

Kassim: Rasta that don't act is like a conch shell on a lonely beach, that have trapped the voices of pain and oppression, and is doomed for life to play them back to any wonderer that puts it to his ear. You stay behind these walls and you smoke up. Stay up in yourself. You have become the echo of oppression, a mere shell of Ras-Tifi-I. Rsata that don't act stand in the way of justice, stand in the ways of Jah,

John: (Visibly angry). Bomba Klaat. Mek me tell you. Rasta that only listen him own voice will also burn in the flames of Babylon.

Kassim: Rasta no harbour anger. Peace brother.

John: One year at University and they poison your mind. Fill it with arrogance.

Kassim: NO. I have seen beyond the nothingness of their theories. Their gifts in exchange for nothingness. They say that Babylon is indestructible. That we can get piece of the action by believing in the market. But Jah show I that the greed and emptiness of Babylon can be fed at a price that gives I freedom and buys food and medicine for the forgotten children of Africa. Jobe's children. These market worshippers need drugs to fill their emptiness. My professor call it an existential gap. Yes an existential gap exist. Good can come from evil.

John: You mean crime shall set us free?

Kassim: Crime! The Government of Canada grows poor quality ganga in caves and sell it at monopoly prices, and you accuse me of crime. They say it is a humanitarian act. My act is also humanitarian: to stop the death of Africa.

John: And the gun in your bag? What is that for? To protect your consumers or You?

Kassim: You have developed extra vision. You have gone to the Mountain!

John: And the message is not good. I am looking at you on the road to eternal damnation. He who lives by violence perish by it. Not die. Perish.

Kassim: Jah rod and staff comfort and anoint I. Look, all I am doing is protecting the meek and the poor; and returning to the rich some of the poison them sending down stream. They buy cheap in the third world markets and sell high here. Well the third world got a product they willing to buy high there and sell higher here. Simple trade.

John: You playing with trouble Kassim. True Rasta nah carry gun and poison people like rats. No matter who.

Kassim: You are naive John. The law of the market is supply and demand. The invisible hand can ensure equity. If you play it smart. The President of the most powerful nation in the world tells us that it is not enough to have free and democratic elections, we must also have a free market. In the market there are no laws to be broken. Understand. The inhabitants of the mansions are unsympathetic and protected. We the people are allowed passage but no protection. For thousands of years Rasta waiting without action. Now is your chance to do something. Stop the empty rhetoric and join us. Join the revolution.

John: As I was saying to (stops abruptly). Oh well. This is a long journey and everyone has to walk through the valley by him self.

Kassim: (Curious) Said to whom?

John: Never mind. What I am saying to you now is, you do what you have to do; and I do what I have to do. (Pause) Have you spoken to Joan recently?

Kassim: Why?

John: Only asking. Have you seen her?

Kassim: She will not see me. We don't seem to agree on the common purposes of our lives. Zion and the Pope are irreconcilable poles. Best it stays that way.

John: I think you should try to see her.

Kassim: What's wrong? Something is wrong. Is it? She is sick!

John: No Kassim. Nothing that is natural is wrong. Just make sure that you see her. Just go see her.

Kassim: She is leaving the country?

John: Just go and see her.

Kassim: You don't understand. The woman don't want to see Kassim. You hiding something. Ain't you.?

John: Do me a favour and go and see her. She wants to see you. But try to be humble. If that's possible..

EXIT

Street Scene

Street Scene in Cote des Neige: Characters, Tony, Pressie, and a sixteen year pusher, Robin, working the area. Gun shots are heard. Robin is being chased by Pressie. Tony is standing in a door way hidden from Robin. As he passes Tony stretches his leg out and Robin goes sprawling. Tony and Pressie pins him to the ground face down, with guns to his head.

Tony: I got him.

Pressie: You going for a ride. I did warn you. Stay in the school yard. (They search him). What you got here. You want to die for five dollar trade on my street. I could arrange that.

Robin: This is a free country. Fuck you. (Pressie strikes him viciously with the butt of his gun.).

Tony: Take it easy. Is Calli son.

Pressie: I don't give a fuck whose son he is. He is going for a ride. This is my yard. Get up.

Tony: I tell you. I got him. First, we take him to see Kassim. Kassim knows him mother.

Pressie: Him meet Jah. But dead man will walk. Get up. (Tony releases him to Pressie and dials Kassim on his cell phone).

Tony: (on cell) Jah Angel 2. We have a recruit. Meet us at the apartment. (To Pressie) Kassim coming. Cool it.

Pressie: (To Robin) I did talk to you. You don't listen. You pay.

They exit

A Room somewhere in Cote des neiges. Not too far form the Plamondon Metro. Robin is hustled in. Forced to his knees and his hands tied behind his back.

Pressie: Jah angel soon come. Kneel and pray. After that you is mine.

They sit astride two chairs in the sparsely furnished room and wait. Tony gets up and goes to the side of the window to survey the back alley. They continue to wait.

Pressie is growing increasingly impatient. Robin is stressed. Fear begins to distort his face.

Pressie: What we ah wait for man. A crazy college man. This is not rocket science. What must be done must be done. Make ah example. That what I say. We don't make an example, next time is not one sixteen year Robin hood, but thousands. These mother fuckers never face death. They have no fear, no respect. Make them look the devil in him eyes. That what I say.

Tony: You had your say. Now we wait for Kassim.

Pressie: I am getting fucking tired of waiting. Some fucking school boy leave him yard to buy candies. And just for kicks he hit my gate. Man that ain't good for business. It puts out the wrong message on the street. I can't ...

Tony: The community is pissed off at the gun parades and salutes. Bullets spraying every where, community hall Christmas party, church basement youth dance! Black people feel imprisoned in their homes. They tired ah the gun play and shootings. The police look like friends to them now. And you want to shoot this smart ass kid, Calli son. To make a point! I don't think that is good.

Robin: Yes. How that goin look man. The Ministre de la Jeunesse going to be all over your ass.

Pressie: What you say.

Robin: The Minister and the police will fuck you over. Black people go tell where to find you. (Pressie strikes him savagely in his stomach. Robin whimpers with pain).

Pressie: (Grabs Robin by his throat with one hand, and puts the gun nozzle down his mouth). Who go find your body. Answer. You lump of shit. (Robin is choking, and pleading to God) Shut up. (Pressie pushes the gun further down Robin's throat). Shut up.

Tony: (Quickly, slips behind Pressie. He whips out his gun and puts it to Pressie's head) Pressie. Put it down. You have a choice, you crazy bastard. Blow him away and die. Or pass the piece and live. What is it going to be?

Pressie: We play ah yard together in JA. Drink mountain dew and luck the same cunts. We come north and shoot it out with the Harlem possees and survive. Brother, I take slug out of your backside. Cause we nah could a go hospital. You and I go way back together. You break my heart. Buss it up. You put cold steel to your only friend head!

Tony: Pass the piece Pressie.

Pressie: Don't let this Africa shit fuck up your head, brother. I am your protector. Kassim knows nothing about the street.

Tony: Jah guide. Problem brother is that you think this is what it is about. Pass the piece, Pressie.

Pressie: We must set things right. So we survive another day. That is the way things are done. Tony: Pass the piece, Pressie. (There is a knock at the door. Pressie passes the piece to Tony).

Pressie: (Fist folded, points index finger making as a gun to Robin's head) Pow. Next time you dead.

Tony: Who is it?

Kassim: Is me Kassim. (Kassim enters. Tony lowers gun). Every thing ok?

Tony: Sure. We got him here.

Pressie: I don't give damn bout the politics. In the street is me against them. Youth becomes man with no conscience. The rule is he dies if he fucks with the business.

Tony: I hope you remember that. Untie him.

Kassim: There is a suspended contract on you. You understand that.

Pressie: Answer Bwoy. You know what that means.

Robin: Yeh. It means I should not push stuff in Pressie yard.

Kassim: In the collective territories. Right Pressie.

Pressie: That is what I tell him.

Kassim: But is more than that You have transgressed. So you have to do penance. You have work to do for us, community work. You like skin heads?

Robin: Some of them cool.

Kassim: We talking nigger and jew hating skin heads. Ass kicking ball busting skin heads.

Robin: Shit no. I hate skin heads. Some Black dudes carved up some bad last week. Blood every where. Guts hanging out. Awesome!

Kassim: We are inducting you to do your penalty. Cool?

Robin: Cool.

Kassim: What do you know about Jab?

Robin: I know what Peter Tosh say bout Jah. Cool man. Trepidation. Jah love. Jab protect. Ises. Kassim: And Hailie Salassie?

Robin: Hailie who?

Kassim: We will get back to that. We work as a group. Inside the group the contract is off. Outside the group the contract is active. Some rules: You do not consume the inventory. You do not poison children in the schools. That is a no, no. We have rich clients. The net goes to feeding hungry children in Africa.

Robin: Africa! I ain't no African. I look after me.

Pressie: Out of the mouths of babes!

Kassim: The group takes care of necessities. Lets go. You have some errands to run. (To Tony and Pressie) Stay in touch.

[Kassim and Robin Exit]

Pressie: Mek me say this to you. Today you put cold steel to your brother head. That was heavy shit. Tell me, did you mean it?

Tony: Yes.

Pressie: Kassim and him dreaming more important than our friendship?

Tony: No. Not Kassim. But the ideas, the dreams.

Pressie: Well I think he is a bull shitter. Word on the street is that this Africa and Jab stuff is a cover up for something bigger. Fear is that he building an army a possee that will control the traffic on the street. You control the street. You control business. Every body must come to you. I see it as economic religion. It says no one shall enter the kingdom except through a Jab child. Cause he suffer only the likkle children to come unto him.

Tony: That is a load of trap. You really nab believe in the integrity and dignity of Black respect. You nah believe in nothen. All them Sunday picking up and thiefing the offering. Nothing the Rev say rub off on you.

Pressie: The Rev. talk a good talk. Listen to me see. You want to believe in philosophy and philosophers? Fine. As far as I go in that is pay Jab him dues. Him praise. But reality says, Caesar must be compensated.

Tony: And you fancy that you is Caesar.

Pressie: I keeping me eyes like a hawk on things. What I know is that I, not Jah, protect. He slip with me; and he slide all the way.

Tony: Pressie. You remind me of a man in search of destiny. Don't worry. It will find you. But make sure it is not fools gold. You want a beer?

Pressie: Yeh. Leh we go by the Curry House, I could eat a peas and rice.

Tony: I buying you a beer.

Pressie: That too. You know something Tony, That boy could be trained.

Tony: What boy?

Pressie: Robinhood.

[Tony and Pressie Exit]

ACT II

Scene I

Pressie and Robin are in a somewhat upscale apartment h7 Cote des Neiges. There is evidence that the space they occupy is electronically protected by warning systems. Pressie is wearing a gun holster over his shell green Waistcoat. Robin is dressed as a younger version of Pressie.

Pressie pours himself a glass of wine. He turns to Robin.

Pressie: Get yourself a crystal and have a drink of class. No flicking cheep Canadian beer from disposal can tonight. Have a drink of a two hundred dollar Paolo Scavino Barolo Cannubi.

Robin: Barolo Cnnubi! It brew with Mariwana?

Pressie: This is no shit boiwy. When you drink this is like kissing a beautiful pussy. From the vineyards of Italy. Yah man. [As Robot is about to pour the wine, Pressie rests his hands on the holster of his gun.]. Careful. Drop that and you dead.

Robin. Ok. OK! (Robin clutches the bottle with both hands) You make me nervous. Maybe I should just have a beer.

Pressie: Ah say, no flicking beer here tonight. Gentle. Don't chip my crystals.

Robin: Blood Klaat! This is ah risky drink, see! (Robin pours a glass of wine), is this Wine Drinking 101? What we celebrating?

Pressie: You youth have no etiquette! You have nothing upstairs. Empty!

   School bwoy. Listen to I
   Listen to I well.
   God help them, that help themselves
   Some people seek change
   Me, I say leff well enuff alone.
   But verily, I say to you, sure nuff
   Render unto Jah, the praise that ah Jah
   Let Jah be praised.
   Let Jah be praised
   (Raise glasses)

   God bless Jamaica. Land of the free.
   God bless the Jacobins Tousaint,
   Dessalines; took care of business
   Freed the people, freed the land.
   Your children roam the earth

   survive in Diasporic waste. Cause
   We respect the power of Jah
   Fear the power of Jah. Praise Jah.
   Praise Jah. Let Jah be loved.
   For Jah understands All
   That survival is an instinct thing
   So we must render to ourselves
   The things that we ah need.

   Let the children them
   Come unto I. And I will deliver them
   From time wasting boredom schools
   Where brainwashing oppressors
   Lobotomize Blackman brains
   Leaving nothing. Notin but pain
   Downpression and hopelessness
   mother and father of trepidation.
   No job, no job in Babylon
   No apartment to rent in Babylon
   No police protect I in Babylon
   In the streets that pass through Babylon
   I and I alone protect you school bwoy
   And for that you bring Caesar I him tax.
   That is the Law. That is the law
   That is the law in the streets of Babylon.
   [Raise glasses. Both repeat]

   That is the law
   That is the law
   That is the law
   In Babylon streets.

   No Rastaman chant change Babylon
   Not true, Babylon ah soon fall down.
   No college man dream, save Africa
   Babylon will not fall down.
   In the pot-hole streets of Centre Ville
   Black man walk head hooded. Shades.
   Hands deep down him empty pocket
   Rolling im shoulders; dragging him feet.
   Many them listen to Rasta man chant

   Fly away to Zion
   Fly away home

   But them find
   the road to Zion
   Not paved in Gold
   The Gates of Zion,
   bear chains
   Not pearls

   Black horsemen
   deliver death in Africa
   Gold Coast, Dafour, Segali
   Babylon ah nah fall down
   Babylon ah nah fall down..
   So here. In these streets
   Cote des Neiges. I protect I.
   I protect you. School boiwy.
   We are condemned to Babylon
   The trade is brisk
   The wine is good
   The women they dey
   And the glare of the world
   Filtered through dark shades
   No offend the eye cruising
   In a chauffeured driven limousine
   Sunday on Victoria.

   Life could be worse in Babylon.
   Let us drink a toast
   Drink in libation to Babylon
   For this is our inheritance.
   Hear What I say School Boiwy
   Death to the intruders
   Death to the intruders
   No matter who.
   No matter who.

To Babylon.

[They both toast]

Pressie: I hear there are some defectors from the Tribes of Africa warriors. In Burgundy.

Robin: The lines are clean. They got nothing to do. Some ah them on the habit. Pressie: Discipline problems. Well, we got some talking to do. They the listening type?

Robin: Yoh! They cool.

Pressie: Drop the Yoh shit. Arrange a party. Rent a bunker room from Tousaint. Nothing fancy. (Pause in conversation. Robin relaxes with drink) Boiwy! You fucking hard ah hearing?

Robin: Me soon come finish (Robin finishes drink. Puts the crystal down very softly)

Pressie: I buying. (Robin starts to leave). The beer. The first beer. Anything else is Tousaint's At a discount.

Robin: No sweat off my ass. (He leaves grumbling under his breath).Tousaint ! You mean Pressie and Tousaint.

Pressie: (Exit Robin. Pressie pours himself another drink). This is easy, School Boiwy. But we got bigger fish to catch and fry.

Lights Fade

Act II Scene 2: Joan's Apartment.

In this scene Kassim visits Joan unannounced. Joan is cleaning the apartment: dusting the furniture. In the back ground Sunday church music is playing. The door bell rings. Joan goes to the door and opens it. Kassim is standing in the corridor.

Kassim: Peace. [He hands her a bouquet of roses]

Joan: What's this? You sure you have the right apartment?

Kassim: I know its been a long time. But I don't forget this apartment.

Joan: Well this is indeed a surprise(She takes the roses). The prodigal returns with red roses.

Kassim: May I come in?

Joan: What will Haillie think about his angel of fire entering a Rome-woman apartment. This is unholy ground not so! If it pleases Jah., by all means, come in.

Kassim: [He bows politely] Love and respect. I do not come here in anger or to offend. I come in respect to ask your understanding, reason with the truth within, two souls speaking the one to the other searching for one way.

Joan: Our souls communing. I thought the brotherhood of you and Pressie was joined together in one blood letting.

Kassim: Do not connect that name to I. It represents evil, betrayal and death. Jah will confront him and im killing machine boiwy. Dem ah stir the wrath of the rod and staff of Jah. Jah be praised.

Joan: That bad! [There is a brief pause] You may have a seat. (he sits away from him).

Kassim: Draw nearer. I don't bite.

Joan: I feel just fine here.

Kassim: I was speaking to Ras-Tifi.

Joan: You mean John

Kassim: No. Him rediscover the true self. But he denounces the way of the soldier. Jah has a job for each of us. So that is cool.

Joan: Good for John. And praise to Jah.. So when were you talking to Ras-Tifi-John?

Kassim: Some time back.

Joan: some time back two months?[ Kassim avoids the issue. He does not respond] Well you don't have to hurry come over here on account of your speaking to John, now return to Ras-Tifi-I some time back. You don't need satin gloves and roses to ring this door bell.

Kassim: I was hoping not.

Joan. That is not what I mean.

Kassim: I am not here on account of Ras-Tifi-I. I only mean to say that we were reasoning, and I had reached certain conclusions about my life. I am not here as dog with tail between its leg begging the mistress pardon. Look. I don't want a quarrel. I just want to talk..

Joan: Good. And I aint your mistress

Kassim: fair.

Joan: Boy, you are something! You know that! What you come here to disrupt my life for? What more you want from my life? Eh? What more. I have nothing more to give you. I have given you all that a woman con give a man. Why you come here to take scab off wound and torment me?

Kassim. Why you talking about tormenting. I never disrespected you. The who you are. Never. I ask nothing of you except your understanding. Jah permitting

Joan: My understanding! Jah forbid that I should ask of you your understanding. Don't I need to be understood. Am I not made of flesh and blood; and a self that haunts my dreams looking for answers too? When you Kassim understand that, then the understanding begins.

Kassim: I don't want to dredge up memories that cause you pain.

Joan: I will remember that when they identify your body in the morgue.

Kassim: I know it will make a lot of people happy if I return to University. Find a new way as Rasti -Tifi tells me. Seek inner peace. My father and mother would love to see me get that piece of paper, get a job, settle down get married, buy a piece of land and a nice house, and raise a family. My dad always saying " Don't be like your uncle. They burry him in the paupers cemetery in JA, with the clothes that was on he back when he dead. Not a penny in him pocket". Solid West Indian values that separate me from them.

Joan: So you come to tell me that you have come to the conclusion that you don't want a family. I am not your father and your mother.

Kassim: What ah mean is that my father and mother settled for a house in a rotting world. I want a home in a better world.

Joan: Which come first, the chicken or the egg? As far as I am concerned the earth rotting from its inception. We all part of the earth. The spirit may fly high. But ultimately we ah go back to the earth. We all live in the same world. Is the only one we have. All ah we breath the same air. All ah we is part of all ah we. Yuh na see that?

Kassim: Yes I know all ah we breathe the same air. All ah we drink the same water. I know that. But all ah we nah dirty up the water; and all ah we nah foul up the air. The earth rots: One creature's rotting is another creature' s nourishing. Life feeds on life. You nah see we inhabit a hell. The same factories that shelter, feed and cloth us, belch poisons in Babylon air, the mills them a bleed toxics in the lakes, rivers and streams. The St Lawrence and its dieing lakes spew filt back on corporate lawns; and carcinogenic effluents kill fish, fowl and beast. Chemical food poison the body. My father sell him soul and take bribes to shut him mouth in return for him piece of land and a nice house in the West Island. Him flee from Burgundy. Dem call it progress. I do not have to opt into the corruption of his world. Even though the earth rots. I come to tell you that I eat neither flesh nor fish. I fast.

Joan: Well that solves your problem. All women should rejoice at that revelation. Halleluiah!! Praise be to God! Jah too. But you too late.

Kassim: It is not a joke. I cannot plant seed in a world that has condemned itself to destruction.

Joan: Well, Kassim. I think if you cast bread on the water some time. You could expect something to return.

Kassim: Until we clean up the earth and banish capitalist greed, nah nuff bread to cast pun the waters.

Joan: That is sad Kassim. You don't know how painfully sad that is. You have an answer for everything. You know everything but you know nothing. The eye cannot see itself. It can look back. But only see piece of the past. It can look forward. But only guess at the future. We live blind in the present, like fools in a false paradise. You think you know, but you know nothing Kassim.

Kassim: I know Jah mercy is infinite. I know....

Joan: For God sake shut up. Shut up. Look around you. You are telling me, that all you can see is a world in decay.? A world trembling before the wrath of Jah on judgment day, blood and damnation, where Jesus Christ is a false prophet, not the son of God? All you could see is a world without redemption. [TEXT UNREADABLE IN ORIGINAL SOURCE] can see is you, a Moses child, carrying the torch of fire, delivering the pestilences, [TEXT UNREADABLE IN ORIGINAL SOURCE] and ruination to the work of our wicked ancestors and masters! Can you not see new life springing up, and feel the joy and ripeness of that new life in you, in me, in the world? Can you not feel the sun, just returned North, caress your face, your lips, penetrate your body, filling it with joy? Do you not see the crocuses pushing through the earth reaching up to catch the sunlight.? And fresh leaves like garlands adorn the naked bodies of the trees.? When you were on your way here to confound me, did the warmth of all that is natural stop your thinking, touched your heart for a moment and say to you "How beautiful it is to be alive". Even if the air dirty, you don't marvel at the miracle of life. In the midst of the corruption and filth, you can't see us as the lilies in the pond, dirty as it is?

Kassim: I have been preoccupied and reflecting on the path I chose. Yes. Yes. You see these thing clearly. I see them in a fog.

Joan: This morning I was sitting on the grass on the campus Mall, reading. Just up from the gates. I saw a young father, taking a stroll through the mall with his child in a pram. He was wearing a sweat shirt which said "Protect the Earth". He wasn't angry. He was not shouting "Fire and damnation on Babylon". He wasn't disrespecting peoples' beliefs. He was trying to leave a better world for his child. That is beautiful, isn't it? It gave me hope. I felt the fullness of life within me. What is wrong with that Kassim?

Kassim: Those are beautiful thoughts. All our life in this country we have been told what we can and cannot be. I cannot embrace these thoughts. I cannot accept the world as it is. Something inside keep repeating, "it is only a fool that indulges in wishful thinking. Words without action will not get us back to Eden".

Joan: True. But it is also only a fool that takes his own obsessions for the truth. When I saw you standing in the door way today. I cant tell you the happiness I felt inside me. I admit that in that moment of weakness you became my Lion of Juda. I wanted to talk to you, , and tell you things. Beautiful things. Touch the locks. I wanted to discuss new possible worlds and compromises. I wanted to talk about a world with jingles and chimes and gurgling laughter. Yes all that was behind my mask of pretending that I didn't want to revisit our passions. And when you said that you no longer eat flesh nor fish. I took the deeper meaning. And I was sad for us, and our unborn child.

Kassim: You seem to get pregnant every time we reason. I dislike that. It's not funny any more.

Joan: You are right. Every morning I tell myself its not fun.

Kassim: Jesus Christ! You are serious!

Joan: It is funny how people find Christ when they get bad news.

Kassim: You are pregnant!

Joan: Yes. I am pregnant.

Kassim: Me. A father!

Joan: Yes.

Kassim: What am I going to do with a child? I have things to do!

Joan: You have done enough. Stop. Now we have a child to prepare for.

Kassim: You kept telling me you not pregnant. Now you telling me I am a father. This is confusing. You stopped smoking?

Joan: Yes. I stopped smoking.

Kassim: Good. But you never said anything.

Joan: I am sorry. I was afraid. It wasn't planned.

Kassim: I thought you were taking..

Joan: I guess I am responsible now! God! You are insensitive

Kassim: It is just that I am surprise. Nothing like this ever happened to me before

Joan: Are you saying that I took your virginity?

Kassim: No! No! It just that ...

Joan: you are surprise. I remember telling you that you should take some of the responsibility. You kept saying stupid things like, "I don't like going to bed with my socks on."

Kassim: I never said that.

Joan: So what difference it makes if it were "washing your foot with your socks on".

Kassim: Are you sure? How am I to know.... Forget that I said that. What am I going to do? What are we going to do? You are still in University. Its this whole business of the biological clock. It gets into a woman's head and she forgets the things she has to do.

Joan : (Mockingly in rhythmic chant) I must make sure that on the hour, every hour that I take the precautions so as not to cause you to have to wash your foot with your socks on.

Kassim: Is the doctrine of the Pope-church. Create guilt in people mind about protection. Natural rhythm. Its all designed to keep us down.

Joan: Don't blame the church. It didn't pull your zipper down and drop your pants. It wasn't the Pope's hands that were all over my body. You intend to father this child or not?

Kassim: (Almost grumbling to himself) Children starving in Africa. And we going to burden the world with more hungry mouths!

Joan: You bastard. You crazy drug trafficking bastard.

Kassim: I am not a trafficker. I do not prey on our youth and the poor. I am no Pressie who poisons children, kill their brain cells, then spends the proceeds of his trade like the cliche says "on wine women and bad boy reggae". I facilitate the movement of a third world product that is consumed by the Corporate Lords and their executives in exchange for a portion of the profits that they take out of the third world.

Joan: You are not the law. Why risk your life? Why? Is not you one responsible. What about their thiefing leaders. Living on the high in Paris, while their people starve, and die from AIDS. They chopping up and dismembering one another. And you risk your life and jail here. For what? The money na ah go to them people. It ah go in them crooked African dictators pocket.

Kassim: Sure. It is a dangerous business. And these days there are many questions. I have been giving these contradictions serious thinking. There are many ways. Jah will direct. The wicked them, Black or White, will be destroyed.

Joan: So in the name of Jah you building an army to go to Africa.

Kassim. You are confused about what I do. My ... my.. struggle.

Joan: Yes Kassim. And I wish you would kindly deconfuse me.

Kassim: We cannot just think bout ourselves. We must be responsible.

Joan: I am not just thinking about myself Kassim.

Kassim: I protect little old ladies and minorities, homo-sexuals and mixed couples from the racists riding the metro. What's wrong with that!

Joan: An eye for an eye.

Kassim: It's true, some of the groups have been brutal in cleaning out the vermin. There have been some bad incidents. I do not condone extremism among my militants. But I can tell you this. The only person that will miss those brutes is the masochistic fagotting prostitute standing at Du Bullion wondering why he hasn't recently had his infected blood spilled on army boots in between waiting for rich clients that under the mask of hell's night, drink at the poisoned wells of Sodom and Gomorrah.. Yes. This crazy bastard walks in the shadows of evil. That is the world that the sun shines on. We do our best. But it is not quite the place for jingles, chimes and gurgling laughter. At least not yet

Joan: That is fine. I will tell Dr. Morganteller that when I see him. Just for the records.

Kassim: What? You are talking about my flesh and blood. You can't do that!

Joan: Tell that to the Supreme Court of Canada.

Kassim: I mean it Joan. Cut out the smart ass talk. You are a Black woman. You are a giver of new life and hope. You will not kill my flesh and blood. You wouldn't dare surrender our child to the scalpel of a butcher.

Joan: No. No. No. (Pause. Almost to herself) I am living my mother's nightmare. (She appears faint. Kassim rushes to her assistance. Helps her up and embraces her).

Kassim: There has got to be a way.

Joan: Get out of my apartment Kassim. I hate you. I hate you. Oh god what am I going to do?

Kassim: I love you. I keep running things back. Through my head. The conversations. But there are too many questions. I can't clear my head.

Joan: This is too much. I don't feel ... Kassim.

Kassim: You don't look good. What's happening? (She slumps. Kassim helps her to a chair). Sit down. You shouldn't be exciting yourself like this. It not good. Take it easy. (He holds her hands for a moment. He is very worried).

Joan: Please leave. I need to be alone. I will be ok.

Kassim: But....

Joan: Please go. Please. I feel fine now.

Kassim: I will call you.(Pause) Will you answer?

Joan: Just leave.

Kassim: Will you?

Joan: Yes. Leave. You are a pain in....

Kassim: the ass. Ok! I am going. But I will call

Joan: OK! OK! Call.

Kassim: We must reason.

Joan: Yes. Yes Kassim. Three souls communing!

Kassim: Three souls? Oh!

Kassim Exits. Joan remains seated. She is quiet. She puts her head back and closes her eyes. One hears in the distance the roar of a car engine. It gets louder as it gets nearer filling the room. There is the sound of bullets being fired on the street outside of Joan's apartment as the car speeds away. Joan jumps to her feet as someone confronted with the realty of a premonition.

Joan: (Screams) Kassim!

She rushed to the Window. Looks into the street below for a few moments. Turns abruptly, and rushes out into the road.

Act II Scene 3. On The road in Front Jones Apartment

Kassim is lying shot and bleeding out on the road in front of Joan's second floor Apartment. He has been shot in a drive by hit. Joan runs towards him. She kneels beside him. Repeatedly calling his name in an agitated voice. She holds his hand. Just then Tony arrives on the scene.

Tony: Kassim. Kassim. (He kneels next to Joan) I am here. I am here man. Hang in. I was just parked round the corner, waiting for you. Like you said. I heard the shots. I saw the car man. I saw the car.

Joan: He is gone Tony. He is gone. Call the police. (Tony hesitates). Call the police Tony. (Tony gets up. Takes out his cell phone and calls. He returns to Joan and Kassim.). Who did this Tony? Where is the protection? What use you and Pressie? Who would do this?

Tony: Do not speak the name Pressie. Pressie and the hit man boiwy is a dead man and boiwy. [To Kassim]. Kassim. I promise you. I will take care of business. Go to sleep brother. Jah awaits you. Peace, Jah child. (To Joan) Na cry daughter. Him rest in peace. (Tony leaves in a hurry. We can hear the siren of the police cars in the distance).

Joan:

   My Lion of Judah, chopped down
   Like a tree .in the fullness of its bloom.

   A life comes into this world
   And like all human life
   It asks the question, why?
   What is the purpose of life?
   You have asked these questions
   Cliches that like a spent arrow
   Has found no mark. Yet you
   have searched passionately
   For answers that frightened us.
   I was afraid Kassim
   I was afraid of loosing you
   Afraid that my dream
   would be lost in your search.

   I wanted a family for you and I
   filled with gurgling laughter
   of our children in ah Montreal
   Jam-Can McGill Black man house
   Far from my native half-way tree
   You wanted an equitable safe world
   With a place for our home;
   Where the voices in the shells
   echo our laughter from every beech.
   And you had the courage to try
   To create that world
   And fill it with the music of the soul
   But I would not let you
   I was afraid Kassim
   I was afraid of loosing you.
   Afraid that my dream would be lost

   In my discovering you.

   .
   Now God has called you away
   You are gone, and with you
   Gone our spiritual chats. But
   you left me a piece of my dream
   Your spirit and flesh will be
   Part of my emergent vision
   Every movement, every kick
   the primal scream that comes
   with the first breath of life
   will connect you to me.
   I have loved you. Loved you always
   even when I made myself believe
   I should not.
   Jah praise Kassim.