Anon(ymous) (2nd ed. - 01.22.

10) - anonymousCjp
Copyright © 2007 Naomi Iizuka
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Cast of Characters

aNON
NeMaSaNI
NaJa
alI
RITU
NaSReeN
CalISTa
MR. yURI MaCKUS
SewING laDIeS
SeNaTOR laIUS
HeleN laIUS
PaSCal
MR. ZyClO
ZyClO’S PeT BIRD
BeleN
STRyGal
NICe aMeRICaN MOTHeR
NICe aMeRICaN FaTHeR
NICe aMeRICaN DaUGHTeR
SeRZa
BaRFlIeS
IGNaCIO
CHORUS OF ReFUGeeS
eNSeMBle
Acknowledgments

Anon(ymous) was originally commissioned and produced in april

2006 by The Children’s Theatre Company in Minneapolis, Minne-
sota. The cast and staff was as follows:
NeMaSaNI . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rosanne Ma
aNON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Michael escamilla
MR. yURI MaCKUS / STRyGal /
lONe BaRFly / eNSeMBle . . . . . . . .Terry Hempleman
SeNaTOR laIUS / MR. ZyClO /
NICe aMeRICaN FaTHeR /
eNSeMBle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Steve Hendrickson
HeleN laIUS / ZyClO’S PeT BIRD /
NICe aMeRICaN MOTHeR /
eNSeMBle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . annie enneking
CalISTa / SewING laDy #3 /
NICe aMeRICaN DaUGHTeR /
eNSeMBle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Becka M. Ollmann
NaJa / eNSeMBle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sonja Parks
PROTeUS / alI / IGNaCIO /
eNSeMBle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . emil Herrera
NaSReeN / SewING laDy #2 /
BeleN / eNSeMBle . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hadija Steen-Omari
RITU / SewING laDy #1 /
SeRZa / eNSeMBle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Marvette Knight
PaSCal / eNSeMBle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gavin lawrence
Scenic Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kate edmunds
Costume Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christal weatherly
lighting Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Geoff Korf
Music & Sound Design . . . . andre Pluess, Ben Sussmann
Dramaturg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . elissa adams
Video Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rebecca Fuller
Fight Choreography . . . . . . . . . . . . edward “Ted” Sharon
Stage Manager . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jenny R. Friend
assistant Stage Manager . . . . . . . . . . . . . Danae Schniepp
apprentice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Megan Traina
Dialect Coach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . elisa Carlson

all production groups performing this play are required to include

the following credits on the title page of every program:

Anon(ymous) was originally commissioned and produced

by The Children’s Theatre Company of Minneapolis,
Minnesota.

5
 Anon(ymous)
by Naomi Iizuka

1.

(Light on aNON.)
ANON. where I come from is far away from here.
(CHORUS OF ReFUGeeS emerges from the darkness.)
CHORUS OF REFUGEES.
where I come from is oxen in rice fields
and hills the color of green tea.
where I come from is jungles filled with jaguars
and pythons thick as a grown man’s thigh.
where I come from is poison frogs the size of a thumbnail and squir-
rels that can fly from tree to tree.
where I come from is waterfalls taller than the tallest skyscraper
Is olive trees and ancient desert
Is sampans and temple bells
Is sandstorms
Is monsoon rains
Is tapir and okapi and electric blue butterflies with wings as wide as
my arms.
where I come from is the smell of orchid and mango and ripe papaya
Is the smell of my mother’s fried bread
Is the smell of yerba mate
lemongrass
Horchata
Coconut milk
Pho
Fried squid
Cow’s blood
Joss stick
Sheep’s milk, fresh and warm.

7
8 Naomi Iizuka

(The sounds of war begin, faint and distant.)

CHORUS OF REFUGEES. where I come from is high up in the
mountains and the sound of thunder is so loud it sounds like the
end of the world.
where I come from is the edge of an ocean so blue you can see
straight to the bottom, and the sound of the waves crashing is so
loud it sounds like the end of the world.
where I come from giant birds circle overhead, so many you can’t
count them all, they caw caw caw, and the sound they make is so
loud, it sounds like the end of the world.
(The CHORUS OF ReFUGeeS disperses in all different direc-
tions. NaJa remains. The sounds of war grow closer.)
NAJA. Do you remember?
ANON. No—
NAJA. all those memories—
ANON. I don’t remember—
NAJA. Can you hear them—
ANON. No—
NAJA. you can’t hear them, all those memories inside of you?
you’ve locked them inside for so long and now they’re pounding
against your rib cage, against the walls of your heart. Can you hear
them? listen.
(Whispered fragments from the first chorus. The sounds of war
grow closer.)
ANON. I don’t know how to begin. I don’t know where to begin.
NAJA. Sssssssh.
Begin in the middle.
On the border.
On the crossing.
Begin in the place in between.
(NaJa begins to recede from view. Night falls. The sky is vast and
inky blue. The sounds of war grow closer. Distant gunfire. The
whistling of bombs falling from the sky.)
 Anon(ymous) 9

2.

(aNON is alone in the night.)

ANON.
where I come from is far away from here.
where I come from there was a war that lasted so long
People forgot what they were fighting for.
where I come from bombs rained down from the sky night after
night
and boys wandered the streets with M-16s.
where I come from mines are planted in the roads like deadly flowers,
and the air smells like death, rank and sticky sweet.
where I come from you go to sleep at night
and dream about the faces of the people you love.
(Light on NeMaSaNI. She sings an ancient song. aNON sees
her.)
ANON. you dream the face of the one person you love. and that
person, that person becomes like home. Their eyes. Their skin. Their
voice, the sound of their voice. and so you dream about that person.
you dream about home. you dream about going home.
(aNON approaches NeMaSaNI. The sounds of war grow.
They get so loud. It sounds like the end of the world. The whistling
sound of a bomb falling from the sky. The whistling grows louder,
closer. NaJa emerges from the darkness. She pulls aNON out of
the path of the bomb. They leap into a vast, uncharted darkness.
An explosion, blinding white light. The sounds of war transform
into the sound of sewing machines.)

3.

(A sewing factory in a city somewhere in America. The sound of

the sewing machines like a hive of metallic bumblebees. A moun-
tain of fabric reaching up to the heavens. Rows of sewing machines
one after the next as far as the eye can see. The CHORUS OF
SewING laDIeS sews in perfect unison. NeMaSaNI is one
of the sewing ladies. She sews a shroud. Enter MR. yURI MaCK-
US, the manager of the sewing factory. He escorts SeNaTOR and
MRS. laIUS around the factory floor.)
10 Naomi Iizuka

MR. MACKUS. (To SeNaTOR laIUS:) The first thing I want to say
is we are not a sweat shop. we are the first stop on the way to the
american Dream. Give us your poor, your huddled masses yearning
to be free and we’ll hire them, we’ll give them a job, we’ll put them
to work, nothing wrong with good honest work. as you can see,
Senator, the conditions here are first-rate. light and airy. Modern.
Cheerful. we have a great time—don’t we, ladies? all the ladies love
me and I love them.
SENATOR LAIUS. (To the SewING laDIeS:) Don’t mind us please
don’t mind us. we’re just here to observe.
MRS. LAIUS. (To the SewING laDIeS:) what are you making?
CHORUS OF SEWING LADIES.
Blue jeans
T-shirts
yoga pants
Sports bras.
Boxer shorts
warm up jackets
Polo shirts
Tube socks.
Short shorts
Sweatshirts
Khaki pants
Baseball caps.
Mini-skirts
Baby bonnets
Oxford shirts
Bikini tops.
MRS. LAIUS. (Seeing NeMaSaNI’s shroud:) Oooooh I love this.
what is it?
NEMASANI. a shroud.
MRS. LAIUS. Oooooh a shroud. How interesting. what’s a shroud?
NEMASANI. It’s a sheet you wrap around the dead.
MRS. LAIUS. Oh. Oh I see. and do you sell a lot of those? Shrouds,
I mean.
NEMASANI. It’s not for sale.
 Anon(ymous) 11

MRS. LAIUS. It’s lovely, the design is just lovely. I collect primitive
art, you know, from all around the world. It’s a passion of mine. I
have baskets from Guatemala and little buddhas from Cambodia.
They speak to me. This speaks to me. I would love to buy this and
hang it on my wall.
NEMASANI. It’s not for sale.
MR. MACKUS. Don’t mind Penny.
NEMASANI. My name’s not Penny.
MR. MACKUS. Her real name is too hard to pronounce. we call her
Penny. It’s easier. Isn’t it, Penny?
SEWING LADY #1. Mr. Mackus wants to marry Penny. He pro-
poses to her everyday. “will you marry me, Penny,” he whispers
in her ear. He gets so close she can smell his breath. Coffee and Tic
Tacs. She tells him she’ll say yes when she finishes the shroud.
MR. MACKUS. I love Penny. I want to give her a good home. She’s
had a very hard life. I’m just doing my part. I have a big heart. It’s
my undoing.
SEWING LADY #1. Mr. Mackus had a mail order bride from Russia.
MR. MACKUS. Not true—
SEWING LADY #1. and one from the Philippines—
MR. MACKUS. lies lies all lies—
SEWING LADY #1. and one from Thailand, Romania, and Hon-
duras—
MR. MACKUS. THaT’S eNOUGH!
MRS. LAIUS. who’s it for? The shroud, I mean.
NEMASANI. My son.
MRS. LAIUS. your son? Is he dead? That’s so sad. That makes me
very, very sad.
SENATOR LAIUS. Helen, darling—
MRS. LAIUS. you must be devastated. you poor thing. How did
he die?
NEMASANI. He drowned.
12 Naomi Iizuka

MRS. LAIUS. He drowned! That’s awful. It’s so tragic, it’s just so

tragic. I feel your pain, I really do. How did it happen? If you don’t
mind me asking. It helps sometimes to talk, you know, to share.
That’s what human beings do, they share, they share their joy, they
share their pain, it’s only human, we’re only human, you can tell me,
go on tell me—and maybe I can help.
(The sewing factory transforms into the ocean.)

4.

(Night. The ocean. Light on aNON. He holds a toy boat which he

steers through a dark ocean. It’s night.)
NEMASANI. where we come from, there was a war. and my son
and me, we escaped. we escaped in the middle of the night. we
sailed out to sea in an old fishing boat. There were so many people
all crammed together, old people and little babies. we huddled to-
gether in the dark in the belly of the ship. we listened to the roar of
the waves. we listened to the boat creak and moan. and then the
storm started.
(The storm begins. Lightning. Thunder.)
NEMASANI. The winds began to howl. The sky opened up and the
rain came down, sheets and sheets of rain. and the lightning lit up
the sky, bright bright light, and the thunder crashed. and the sound
was so loud. and suddenly a giant wave rose up. It rose and it rose
like a wall of water, and then it fell over us, and swallowed us whole.
(The wave crashes down. Darkness.)

5.

(The sound of the surf. Light up on a tropical beach somewhere in

America. A boy named aNON and a girl named CalISTa sit on
the beach. CalISTa wears a bathing suit. aNON wears street
clothes. aNON examines the broken toy boat. CalISTa has a
camera. She takes pictures. Music plays on a portable CD player.)
ANON. Someday I’m going to sail away.
CALISTA. No you’re not. Don’t be silly. you’re not going anywhere.
This is your home now.
 Anon(ymous) 13

ANON. It’s not my home.

CALISTA. yes it is.
ANON. It’s not my real home.
CALISTA. yes, it is. Now look at me. look at me. Smile. I SaID SMIle.
(CalISTa snaps a photo of aNON.)
CALISTA. you’re very photogenic. you could be a male model.
you’re so swarthy and exotic. That’s very in right now. exotic is very
in. I wish I were more exotic. I’m too pale. I wish I had a tan. I wish
my skin was the color of café au lait.
(A new song begins on the portable CD player.)
CALISTA. Oooooh I love this song.
(CalISTa dances. and then she stops.)
Do you want to watch TV. we could watch TV on my giant flat
screen plasma TV. It’s so cool. It’s so flat.
ANON. No thanks.
CALISTA. what about a snack?
(CalISTa retrieves a bag of candies. She begins to eat. She eats a
lot. She stuffs her face with candy.)
CALISTA. I have M&Ms and Kit Kats and Nestlé’s Crunch and
Snickers and Reese’s Pieces and Charleston Chews and Sweet Tarts
and lemon Heads and Skittles and Spree.
ANON. I’m not hungry.
CALISTA. Suit yourself.
CALISTA. we could do something else. we could kiss. you could
kiss me. Do you want to kiss me?
ANON. No.
CALISTA. That’s OK. you can kiss me later.
ANON. I’m never going to kiss you.
CALISTA. Fine.
ANON. Not now or later. Not ever.
14 Naomi Iizuka

CALISTA. FINe! (Pause.) why are you so mean to me? you should
be nice to me. I saved your life. you washed up on the shore of my
dad’s luxury beachfront condo and you weren’t even breathing. I
fished seaweed out of your mouth. I administered C.P.R. I gave you
the kiss of life just like I learned in summer camp. and I thought
you were so handsome and exotic and not like any of the boys from
around here. I saved your life and you’re so ungrateful! you won’t
even tell me your real name!
ANON. I told you my real name.
CALISTA. your real name is not “Nobody.” what kind of mom
names their kid “Nobody”?
ANON. Don’t talk about my mom.
CALISTA. I mean I’m sure she was nice and all, but it’s not even like
she’s even part of your life anymore. I mean she’s probably dead and
even if she’s alive, it’s not like she’s been trying that hard to find you.
Honestly, if you want my opinion, she’s probably moved on with
her life. I know I would. I bet if you showed up on her doorstep like
right this second, she probably wouldn’t even know who you were.
She’d probably be like: “who are you? Do I know you?”
ANON. I SaID DON’T TalK aBOUT My MOM! (Pause.) OK look,
I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t do it.
CALISTA. why not? It’s nice here. It’s pretty and clean. and I have
satellite TV.
ANON. I gotta go. I’m going to lose my mind if I have to stay here
one more day.
CALISTA. where would you go?
ANON. Home.
CALISTA. But this is your home.
ANON. My real home.
CALISTA. your “real home”? That’s crazy. your “real home” is a
dirty little third world shack with no running water. It’s raw sewage
in the streets and malaria and cholera and all kinds of disgusting
parasites I don’t even want to think about. I’m just saying how it is.
Don’t be mad. Now you’re mad. let’s kiss and make up.
ANON. No.
CALISTA. why not?
 Anon(ymous) 15

ANON. Because I hate you and every time you open your mouth, I
want to stuff sand down your throat.
CALISTA. OK you know what? I don’t care. I don’t care what you
think. I don’t care what you want. you will eat my Skittles and my
Kit Kats and my Spree. you will enjoy my flat screen plasma TV.
and you will love me.
(Enter NaJa from the ocean. She’s a surfer. She wears a wetsuit.
She has a surfboard.)
NAJA. Hey.
ANON. Hey.
NAJA. Remember me?
ANON. yeah. Kinda.
CALISTA. where did you come from?
NAJA. He called me.
ANON. I did?
NAJA. He sent telepathic brain waves out into the universe and I
was listening.
ANON. you were?
NAJA. I was. I’m a really, really good listener.
ANON. That’s cool.
NAJA. I know.
ANON. That’s really cool.
NAJA. I know.
CALISTA. Uh, excuse me. who are you?
NAJA. I’m a goddess. and you are?
CALISTA. I live here. My dad owns this place. He owns everything
as far as the eye can see. He’s very, very powerful. That’s who I am.
NAJA. Is that supposed to impress me?
CALISTA. I’m just saying how it is.
NAJA. you know? you’re like really pale.
CALISTA. yeah? well you’re like really rude.
NAJA. yeah, but you’re really pale. How does a person get to be so
pale? you’re like wonder Bread. you’re like mayonnaise.
16 Naomi Iizuka

CALISTA. I am not like mayonnaise. Cow.

NAJA. Hag.
CALISTA. witch.
(NaJa pulls CalISTa’s hair.)
CALISTA. Ow! This is a private beach. So you better just take your
stupid surfboard and take a hike.
NAJA. you can’t own a beach.
CALISTA. yes you can. My dad does. My dad owns the beach and
the whole entire ocean.
NAJA. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. That’s like saying
you own a jungle or a mountain range.
CALISTA. My dad owns some of those, too. My dad is very rich.
NAJA. yeah? well if he’s so rich, maybe he can buy you a better
bathing suit because that bathing suit is ugly.
CALISTA. Shut up.
NAJA. It’s like the ugliest bathing suit I’ve ever seen.
CALISTA. Shut up!
NAJA. (To aNON:) So you want to go or what?
ANON. like now?
NAJA. like right now, like right this second.
CALISTA. He’s not going anywhere. He’s not allowed.
NAJA. He’s “not allowed”? who says?
CALISTA. My dad. My dad says we have to stay inside our luxury
gated community. My dad says it’s dangerous out there. My dad
says all these foreigners are flooding in with all their strange cus-
toms and their weird food, and they don’t speak english, and they’re
not like us, and most of them are illegal, they’re illegal aliens, that’s
what my dad says. whenever he says that, I think of little green men
in space suits, but that’s not the kind of alien he means, it’s different
a kind of alien.
NAJA. you’re an idiot.
CALISTA. Shut up.
NAJA. and your dad’s an even bigger idiot.
 Anon(ymous) 17

CALISTA. My dad is not an idiot. My dad is really, really rich and

really, really powerful. and you don’t want to make him mad.
NAJA. look, I don’t care about your dad. I don’t care what he thinks
or says or does. I don’t listen to people like your dad. and he doesn’t
either. (To aNON:) Right?
ANON. Right.
NAJA. Ready?
ANON. yeah.
CALISTA. wait. you can’t go.
ANON. yeah, I can. watch me.
(aNON and NaJa dive into the ocean.)
CALISTA. waIT! STOP! COMe BaCK! I’M GOING TO Call My
DaD! aND THeN yOU’Re GOING TO Be SORRy!
(CalISTa’s voice becomes a tiny echo fainter and fainter. Cal-
ISTa becomes a tiny figure on the shore, a speck too small to see.)

6.

(The middle of a giant ocean. aNON and NaJa are floating. It’s
very calm.)
ANON. The last time I was in the ocean, I almost drowned.
NAJA. I know.
ANON. I was with my mom. we were in an old fishing boat. we
were trying to escape and there was a storm—
NAJA. I know.
ANON. How could you know that?
NAJA. you don’t remember me do you?
ANON. yeah I do. we knew each other when we were kids.
NAJA. Oh yeah?
ANON. yeah. you lived across the street.
NAJA. Is that right?
ANON. yeah. you lived in a big old building. It’s not there anymore.
The bombs fell and it was destroyed.
18 Naomi Iizuka

NAJA. I know. (Pause.) what was I like?

ANON. Kinda shy. Kinda cute. your hair was different.
NAJA. Shorter? longer?
ANON. Just different. I had a crush on you.
NAJA. Oh yeah?
ANON. yeah.
NAJA. I think you’re thinking of someone else.
ANON. Maybe. (Pause.) OK. I think I remember now. you were this
girl at the airport.
NAJA. yeah?
ANON. you were waiting to get on a plane. you were going some-
where far away. you were all by yourself. you were reading a book.
NAJA. what book?
ANON. It was a big book. I remember it was like this really big, old
book. It was really, really big. The title is on the tip of my tongue.
NAJA. you don’t remember me.
ANON. No, not really. But I feel like I do. I feel like I know you. I feel
like I’ve known you my whole life.
NAJA. That’s because I’m a goddess and I come to you in your dreams.
ANON. Really?
NAJA. Uh huh. and you’re a mere mortal so you don’t remember.
your brain’s too small.
ANON. Is that how it works?
NAJA. Pretty much.
ANON. and what do you do? like when you come to me in my
dreams?
NAJA. I give you advice. I whisper it in your ear. Sometimes I save
your life.
ANON. Is that right?
NAJA. Uh huh.
(aNON and NaJa kiss.)
ANON. Do all goddesses kiss like that?
NAJA. No, just me.
 Anon(ymous) 19

(aNON and NaJa kiss.)

ANON. I’m really homesick.
NAJA. I know.
ANON. It’s like a big empty room inside of me.
NAJA. I know.
ANON. what if you want to go home, but there’s no more home to
go home to? what if the one person you love more than anything,
what if they don’t remember you? what if they don’t even know
who you are?
NAJA. Ssssssssh.
(NaJa kisses aNON. NaJa pulls away.)
NAJA. OK no more kissing. you have things to do.
ANON. like what?
NAJA. like survive the storm.
ANON. why does there always have to be a storm? why can’t it just
be smooth sailing?
NAJA. Don’t ask why. Just start swimming.
(The winds pick up. The clouds race. The sky darkens. The waves
rise. A blinding light. A lightning flash. A clap of thunder.)
ANON. waIT!
(aNON and NaJa are hurled in different directions.)

7.

(The ocean transforms into the sewing factory. The end of the day.
The sewing factory is deserted. MRS. laIUS and NeMaSaNI
are alone. MRS. laIUS has been listening to NeMaSaNI’s
story.)
MRS. LAIUS. and your little boy? Did you ever see him again?
NEMASANI. No. Sometimes I think maybe he was saved. Maybe
the Coast Guard found him. Or maybe he was able to swim to shore.
MRS. LAIUS. wouldn’t that be something.
NEMASANI. and then maybe he was adopted by a nice american
family.
20 Naomi Iizuka

MRS. LAIUS. yes! we adopted a little boy from the Third world.
The senator and I found him in a refugee camp. He was so cute. we
had such high hopes. But it didn’t work out. He was nothing but
problems from the start. He didn’t blend in. He had a bad attitude.
and then he ran away. Can you believe it? we gave him everything
and he ran away.
NEMASANI. I think maybe my son, maybe he’s alive somewhere.
MRS. LAIUS. Maybe. Probably not. But maybe.
(SeNaTOR laIUS and MR. MaCKUS appear.)
SENATOR LAIUS. Helen, darling, we really have to scoot.
MRS. LAIUS. I hope it all works out for you. I really doSENATOR
LAIUS. Helen—
MRS. LAIUS. I mean I hope you can find closure and renewal. I find
meditation and yoga, yoga can be really helpful, mindfulness and
deep breathing—
SENATOR LAIUS. HeleN!
MRS. LAIUS. Coming, darling.
(MRS. laIUS and SeNaTOR laIUS exit. NeMaSaNI re-
turns to sewing the shroud. MR. MaCKUS is holding bags of
take-out.)
MR. MACKUS. Mmmm. I ordered some take-out for the two of us.
It’s from this Indian place on the other side of town. I got us a little
chicken tikka masala, a little papadum, a little naan. Mmmm. Taste.
NEMASANI. I’m not hungry.
MR. MACKUS. Marry me, you little vixen, you little minx.
NEMASANI. Mr. Mackus.
MR. MACKUS. you know you want to marry me. you find me ir-
resistible.
NEMASANI. Mr. Mackus, please.
MR. MACKUS. This “playing hard to get,” Penny, is getting really
old. you either marry me or lose your job. I hate to be so blunt, but
that’s the way it is.
NEMASANI. Mr. Mackus, as I told you, in my homeland, it is cus-
tomary—
 Anon(ymous) 21

MR. MACKUS. yes yes yes, “it is customary to make a shroud in

which to bury the dead.”
NEMASANI. That is correct.
MR. MACKUS. yes, but you’re not dead. I’m not dead. we’re alive,
Penny. we’re vital. we have needs and desires. we have appetites—
NEMASANI. Mr. Mackus—
(NeMaSaNI smacks the advancing MR. MaCKUS.)
MR. MACKUS. Ow!
NEMASANI. when I am done, we can get married.
MR. MACKUS. Can’t you speed things up?
NEMASANI. It takes as long as it takes.
MR. MACKUS. what if I can’t wait?
NEMASANI. Then you will incur the wrath of the gods. Bad luck
like you have never seen before. Forget about the number 13. For-
get about breaking a mirror or stepping on a crack. Do you want to
tempt fate, Mr. Mackus? do you know what happens to mortals who
tempt fate? Vultures pecking at your liver and your eyeballs for all
eternity. your arms and legs ripped from their sockets, your head
pried loose from its neck. your skull smashed against a rock, brain
goo splattered all over the pavement—
MR. MACKUS. Fine. No need to agitate the gods. My little crab ap-
ple. My little peach pit. I’ll wait. I can wait. Sweet dreams, my little
sweet potato.
(Exit MR. MaCKUS. When NeMaSaNI is sure he is gone, she
begins to undo the stitches of the shroud. SewING laDy #2
peeks out from behind a sewing machine and sees what NeMa-
SaNI is doing.)

8.
(A police helicopter overhead. The chup chup chup sound of its
propellers. A bright beam of light shines down. Night in a city
somewhere in America. The sounds of a city at night. Freeway
traffic. A constant twinkling stream of tiny cars. TVs and voices
and the clanking of garbage cans and the beep beep beep of trucks
backing up. Somewhere in the giant city, the sound of a song from
somewhere far away. NaJa enters with a transistor radio from
which the song is playing. She sets the radio down.)
22 Naomi Iizuka

9.

(The song continues. An alley behind an Indian restaurant. A

neon sign spelling “CURRy.” NaSReeN opens the back door
with a bag of garbage. She tosses the garbage bag into the dump-
ster. She sees the radio. She approaches the radio. She sings along
briefly to the song. NaSReeN hears a sound coming from the
dumpster. aNON appears from out of the trash in the dumpster.
NaSReeN grabs the radio to use as a weapon.)
ANON. I didn’t mean to scare you.
NASREEN. you didn’t scare me.
ANON. you look kinda scared.
NASREEN. well I’m not.
ANON. are you sure?
NASREEN. yes.
ANON. you shouldn’t be hanging out in dark alleys in the middle of
the night. It’s dangerous.
NASREEN. I don’t care. I’m strong.
ANON. you don’t look that strong.
NASREEN. well I am.
ANON. It’s OK. I mean you’d be OK no matter what. I’d protect you.
NASREEN. I don’t need protecting.
ANON. Right, cause you’re strong.
NASREEN. That’s right. I am.
ANON. I believe you.
NASREEN. Good.
(Pause. The song on the radio plays.)
ANON. you have a nice voice.
NASREEN. No I don’t.
RITU. (Off:) NaSReeN!
ANON. I like that song you were singing.
NASREEN. It’s old. It’s the kinda stuff my mom listens to. My mom
has a nice voice. She sings. I don’t sing.
RITU. (Off:) NaSReeN!
 Anon(ymous) 23

NASREEN. what’s your name?

ANON. (Seeing the “CURRy” sign:) Koo ri.
NASREEN. I never heard that name before. what does it mean?
ANON. Quick-thinking.
NASREEN. Is it stinky in there?
ANON. Kinda. But the food’s pretty good.
NASREEN. what food?
(aNON lifts up a to-go carton from the dumpster.)
That’s not food. That’s garbage.
ANON. what makes it garbage?
NASREEN. It’s in the garbage can.
ANON. yeah but it’s the same food. It’s just in a different setting.
NASREEN. Sometimes, the customers order all this food and then
they take just one bite, and they say it’s too spicy, and so they send it
back, and then we have to throw it away.
ANON. I like spicy.
NASREEN. Me, too. The hotter the better.
RITU. (Off:) NaSReeN!
ALI. (Off:) Nasreen, what are you up to? your mother has been call-
ing and calling.
(Enter alI. He is blind. He makes his way over to aNON.)
ALI. are you conversing with the cockroaches? what do the cock-
roaches have to say for themselves this evening? Perhaps they say:
“Hello, Nasreen. How are you? Did you bring me some leftover cur-
ry or a few morsels of naan?”
(alI is very close to aNON. He stops. He sniffs.)
ALI. you’re very pungent, Mister Cockroach. I smell a whiff of our
delicious aloo gobi from last week. and there, there is our delectable
chicken korma from just yesterday. and right there is our mouth-
watering lamb saag. I have an excellent sense of smell. Do you speak?
ANON. yeah.
ALI. Remarkable. a very large cockroach endowed with the gift of
speech.
24 Naomi Iizuka

ANON. I’m not a cockroach.

ALI. Good, that’s good. My wife kills cockroaches, you know. She
crushes them with her shoe.
NASREEN. His name is Koo ri.
ALI. Koo ri?
ANON. look I should probably go—
ALI. I’m ali.
ANON. Nice to meet you, Mr. ali, but—
ALI. Not Mr. ali, just ali. and this is my lovely daughter Nasreen.
you’ve already met. I am the proprietor of this establishment. My
wife Ritu is the chef. each dish she makes is a masterpiece. The
scents, the tastes of home in each delicious bite.
ANON. look I really gotta go—
ALI. you will be our guest.
ANON. That’s really nice of you, but I can’t. I really have to get go-
ing—
ALI. I insist. I assure you it’s more comfortable indoors. This way,
please—
ANON. No see I can’t do that. I can’t stay -
ALI. Nonsense. Nasreen, set a table for our guest. Ritu, we have
company!
(alI ushers aNON inside. NaSReeN follows.)

10.

(The kitchen of an Indian restaurant. Steam and the sound of run-

ning water. Dishes piled high. The sound of chopping and the clat-
tering of silverware and china. The hiss of the fry pan. A gust of
flame. RITU is cooking. alI and NaSReeN sit at a table full of
assorted hot peppers. aNON watches them from the edge of the
room. alI pops a pepper in his mouth.)
ALI. It’s so hot. It’s hot hot hot. It’s so hot I want to cry.
RITU. ali, you’re going to give yourself a belly ache.
ALI. Nonsense. I can take it.
 Anon(ymous) 25

(alI pops another pepper in his mouth.)

RITU. ali, stop. you’re going to keel over.
ALI. (Gasping:) It’s the pepper. It makes me sweat. It’s very healthy.
RITU. you’re turning red like a beet. Tell me this is healthy.
ALI. (Picking up a tiny pepper:) Very healthy.
NASREEN. It’s so little.
ALI. Don’t be fooled. It’s the hottest pepper of them all.
RITU. enough is enough. you eat that pepper, your tongue will fall
out of your mulish old head.
NASREEN. what about our guest, poppa? Maybe he wants to try.
ANON. No, that’s OK.
NASREEN. I thought you said you like spicy.
ANON. I do.
(NaSReeN takes the pepper from alI and offers it to aNON.)
NASREEN. well here you go.
ALI. Nasreen—
NASREEN. But he said he liked spicy. That’s what he said. Isn’t that
what you said?
ALI. Nasreen, my dove, there’s spicy, and then there’s spicy. I think
our guest is wise enough to know the difference.
NASREEN. I think he’s scared.
ANON. I’m not scared. How bad can it be?
NASREEN. Bad.
ALI. a burning inferno.
NASREEN. The death star of peppers.
(aNON pops the pepper in his mouth.)
ALI. well?
(aNON opens his mouth. He’s swallowed the pepper.)
NASREEN. He did it.
ALI. Impressive, stranger. I’m impressed.
RITU. I used to have a goat that could eat anything. Tin cans. Hub-
caps. Hot peppers.
26 Naomi Iizuka

NASREEN. you did? what happened to him?

RITU. I chopped him up and made goat stew.
ALI. Ritu.
RITU. where do you come from, stranger?
ANON. I’m from all over.
RITU. and your family? where are they?
ANON. I don’t know. I’m not sure.
RITU. I see. and what was your name again? I don’t think I caught
it.
ANON. Nobody. I mean Koo ri. I mean, nobody. I mean, I mean koo ri.
RITU. Koo ri or Nobody, which is it?
ANON. Nobody. I’m nobody.
RITU. Cooking for nobody, am I? That seems like a waste of per-
fectly good food.
ALI. Ritu, please.
RITU. you’re too trusting, ali. The city is full of liars and thieves.
we don’t know him. we don’t know where he comes from. we don’t
know anything about him.
ANON. She’s right. I should go. I’m really sorry—
ALI. No. you are our guest. Ritu has had a long day. Please forgive
her.
RITU. Ritu has had many long days. Ritu has had many long weeks
and months and years. and Ritu can speak for herself. (To aNON:)
Here. I cooked it, you might as well eat it.
(RITU sets a plate of food down in front of aNON. She sets it
down hard.)
ANON. Thanks. Thank you.
(aNON eats in silence. RITU and NaSReeN clean up.)
ANON. Cumin, cinnamon, nutmeg, turmeric.
allspice, cardamom, fennel, clove……coriander.
RITU. yes, coriander. How did you know that?
ANON. My mom used the same spices. She just put them together
differently.
 Anon(ymous) 27

NASREEN. where is she now?

ANON. I don’t know.
NASREEN. How can you not know where your mom is?
ANON. where I come from, there was a war. There was a war and
lots of people disappeared.
NASREEN. you mean they died.
RITU. Nasreen—
ANON. Some of them. But some of them, they just, they disappeared.
NASREEN. Maybe they escaped.
ANON. Maybe.
NASREEN. Maybe your mom escaped. Maybe she’s living in the
city somewhere and you just don’t know it because she changed her
name, but she’s looking for you, too, only she doesn’t know where
to look because she came here from somewhere else, so she doesn’t
know how to get around. lots of people come here from some place
else. we did. where we came from, there was a war, too.
RITU. Nasreen—
NASREEN. That’s how my dad became blind. There was a bomb in
the marketplace. lots of people died, old people and little children—
RITU. Nasreen, that’s enough. That was before. we don’t talk about
that now.
NASREEN. I don’t remember where we came from. I was just a
baby when we left.
ALI. you remember. you just don’t remember that you remember.
NASREEN. How can I remember what I don’t remember?
(NaJa enters. She’s unseen and unheard by everyone except for
aNON.)
ALI. Sometimes in your dreams, something will bubble up from the
depths, a tiny flicker of something you thought you forgot. a taste
or a scent—
RITU. Jasmine.
ALI. yes, jasmine.
(NaJa turns on the radio. An ancient song from far away. alI
caresses RITU’s hair.)
28 Naomi Iizuka

ALI. your mother used to wear jasmine blossoms in her hair. I come
across that scent sometimes and it takes me back. all of a sudden I
think of something from years before, some tiny thing. a piece of a
memory, like a shiny coin at the bottom of a well.
(NaSReeN approaches RITU and alI. RITU wraps her arms
around her daughter. aNON watches the family from a distance.
NaJa approaches aNON.)
NAJA. what do you remember?
(The sounds of distant war.)
ANON. I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how. I don’t
know how to begin.
NAJA.
Begin in the middle
On the border
On the crossing.
Begin in the place in between.
(The sounds of distant war grow closer. NaJa, alI, RITU, and
NaSReeN recede from view.)

11.

(aNON remembers. Chaos in a burning city far away. The sound

of rockets and mortars. Lightning. Thunder. The city transforms
into an ocean. A tiny boat on a giant ocean. Night. He sees Ne-
MaSaNI She sings the same wordless melody she sang before.)
ANON.
I remember my mom and how she used to hold me.
She held me when the bombs fell.
She held me when the ground shook and the city burned.
She held me on the night that we escaped.
She held me in the belly of the boat as we sailed across a giant sea.
I remember how she held me.
and then one night there was a terrible storm.
(A storm at sea. Winds howling. Sheets of rain. A terrible cracking
sound. The boat splits apart. An explosion of water. NeMaSaNI
vanishes under a giant wave.)
 Anon(ymous) 29

12.

(The roar of the surf. aNON is in the ocean. Water as far as the
eye can see. Night. Tiny lights shimmer in the distance.)
ANON. The next thing I remember: I was floating in a giant ocean.
In the distance, I could see tiny lights. I started swimming towards
them. I swam even though my clothes were soaked through and my
arms and legs were numb, even though it hurt to breathe. I swam
and I swam. I swam until I couldn’t swim anymore. and then eve-
rything went black.
(Blackout. Everything is darkness.)
PASCAL. Pssst. wake up. wake up. Quick. Come on.
(The sound of a siren. Shouts. The sound of footsteps on pavement
on steel containers. The clank of chainlink. The sound of running.
aNON and PaSCal are running through the darkness. Glare
of headlights. The sound of a city. They run. They run. They run.)

13.

(A tunnel underground. Graffiti and a giant L & N painted on the

wall. The sound of rats. PaSCal and aNON catch their breath.
PaSCal is West African. He has traditional scars on his face,
thin horizontal lines.)
PASCAL. They won’t come after us here.
ANON. who were they?
PASCAL. Police. INS. Rent-a-cop. who knows.
ANON. where are we?
PASCAL. Tunnel.
ANON. what’s that sound?
PASCAL. Rats. Giant rats. Five foot long, nose to tail. They live
down here. They eat human flesh. They got a taste for it. They hunt
for humans in the night. They go in packs. and if they find you alone
and sleeping, they attack. They rip you to shreds. They tear out your
insides. They rip out your still beating heart.
ANON. I didn’t know rats came that big.
PASCAL. what? you don’t believe me.
30 Naomi Iizuka

ANON. No.
PASCAL. liar. you’re scared. I can see it in your eyes.
ANON. I’m not scared.
PASCAL. yeah you are. you ran like a little girl just now.
ANON. Then that makes two of us.
PASCAL. Come again?
ANON. I said that makes two of us. little girl.
PASCAL. I’m not a little girl.
ANON. No you’re right. you’re just a liar.
PASCAL. what did you say to me?
ANON. you heard me. liar.
(PaSCal rushes aNON. They fight. They fight. And then
eventually they stop. A draw. They sit in the dirt in silence.)
ANON. why did you help me? Before, I mean.
PASCAL. I don’t know. I guess you looked like you needed some
help.
ANON. Thanks.
PASCAL. whatever.
(They sit in silence. PaSCal pulls out potato chips from his bag.)
PASCAL. Hungry?
ANON. yeah.
(PaSCal shares his bag of potato chips with aNON. They eat.)
PASCAL. where did you learn english?
ANON. My mom, she taught me.
PASCAL. yeah?
ANON. yeah.
PASCAL. I’m Pascal.
ANON. (Seeing the L & N sign:) I’m lan.
PASCAL. lan, huh?
ANON. yeah. lan.
 Anon(ymous) 31

(PaSCal and aNON stare each other down. aNON’s eyes

drift to the scars on PaSCal’s face.)
PASCAL. Didn’t nobody tell you it’s rude to stare.
ANON. Sorry.
PASCAL. where I come from, they cut your face when you turn
thirteen. like a warrior. you got any scars?
ANON. No.
PASCAL. everybody got scars. Maybe yours you just can’t see.
(A SHaDOw emerges from the darkness looking for food. aNON
starts for him.)
PASCAL. (Holding aNON back:) Don’t. He don’t hurt no one. He
lives down there.
ANON. what’s wrong with him?
PASCAL. what’s wrong with him? He’s high. He’s high as a kite.
ANON. He looks like someone I know.
PASCAL. yeah? He could be. He won’t remember if he is. His brain
is fried. He don’t remember nothing. He don’t remember where he
comes from, he don’t remember his family, he don’t remember the
names of his kids. all he thinks about is getting high.
ANON. He must be lonely.
PASCAL. He ain’t alone. He’s got lots of company.
(Other SHaDOwS appear. They fill the tunnel. A faint rum-
bling.)
Right on time. Come on, lan. Or whatever your real name is.
(PaSCal scrambles up a ladder to a ledge at the top of the tunnel.
A bright light approaches.)
you stay down there, you’re gonna get squashed like a pancake. you
think I’m foolin, you watch and see.
(The rumbling gets louder. The light grows brighter. aNON
hesitates, then scrambles up the ladder. The sound of steel against
steel. The roar of a giant engine. A train bears down. PaSCal
and aNON jump onto the roof of a boxcar. And then the train
thunders past.)
32 Naomi Iizuka

14.

(Night sky. Stars glitter. The top of the train speeding through the
landscape. PaSCal and aNON on top of the box car.)
PASCAL. listen.
(The sound of the train. A percussion of engines and metal. PaS-
Cal taps out a beat. aNON joins him. Their rhythm builds.
PaSCal stops tapping and looks at aNON. aNON notices that
PaSCal is watching him and stops tapping.)
PASCAL. you know, you kinda look like a monkey.
ANON. I don’t look like a monkey.
PASCAL. yeah you do. around the chin. and the ears. you have
monkey ears. what’s wrong with monkeys?
ANON. I don’t look like a monkey.
PASCAL. Monkeys are good luck. Relax, monkey.
(The sound of the train. The landscape speeds by.)
ANON. How far does this go?
PASCAL. Far.
ANON. we could keep going and going.
PASCAL. we could, but we won’t. we got a destination.
ANON. O yeah? where’s that?
PASCAL. a place I hear we can get some work, make a little money,
get set up. Get some new clothes. you, monkey, are in need of new
clothes.
ANON. what would you do if you had all the money in the world?
PASCAL. First, I’d buy a brand new car so I could go anywhere
in style. Nice shiny rims, nice sound system so I could listen to my
tunes. and then I’d eat all I could eat: steak and french fries and piz-
za. I love pizza, pepperoni pizza. That’s the best. what about you?
ANON. I don’t know.
PASCAL. yeah, you do.
ANON. I don’t know. I guess I’d buy my mom a house, you know,
a big house with a big yard so she’d never have to worry, so she’d
always have a place where she could go. you know, a home.
PASCAL. a home, huh. That’s nice. That’s cool.
 Anon(ymous) 33

(The sound of the train. The landscape speeds by.)

PASCAL. Do you believe in fate?
ANON. like fortune telling?
PASCAL. Kinda. like everything that happens to you is already de-
cided before you’re even born.
ANON. and you don’t have a choice?
PASCAL. No choice.
ANON. I don’t know. I guess I don’t think about stuff like that.
PASCAL. where I come from, they try to tell your future from the
stars.
ANON. yeah? what do my stars say?
PASCAL. Hmmm. you will travel far. and have a bumpy ride.
ANON. you know what, I knew that already.
PASCAL. The stars don’t lie.
ANON. No, they’re just telling me what I already know.
PASCAL. look at them all. So many stars. They look exactly like
they do at home.
ANON. you think about home?
PASCAL. Not so much. How about you?
ANON. I think about my mom sometimes.
PASCAL. yeah? what’s she like?
ANON. I don’t know how to describe her. like a mom.
PASCAL. Does she smell like soap?
ANON. yeah. like soap and clean clothes and some kind of flower,
I don’t know what it is.
PASCAL. Does she have a big enormous bag she carries everything
in?
ANON. yeah.
PASCAL. Do her eyes crinkle up when she laughs?
ANON. Uh huh.
PASCAL. Does she sing sometimes when she thinks no one’s lis-
tening?
34 Naomi Iizuka

ANON. yeah.
PASCAL. Does she chop vegetables really fast?
ANON. So fast you can’t even believe it. yeah.
PASCAL. Does she sew?
ANON. Uh huh.
PASCAL. and when she sews, the stitches are so tiny and even, and
you think how can they be so—
ANON. Perfect.
PASCAL. yeah. I think about my mom, too.
ANON. where’s she now?
(The sound of the train begins to transform into a menacing
rhythm of metal grinding against metal.)
ANON. Pascal?
PASCAL. we’re almost there.
ANON. Pascal?
(The sound of metal grinding against metal grows. It sounds like
human voices wailing.)
ANON. Pascal, where’s your mom? where is she now?
PASCAL. you know how to jump? you know how to fall? watch.
I’ll show you.
(PaSCal jumps from the moving train. aNON follows.)

15.

(aNON and PaSCal hit the ground. They tumble down a giant
hill. The world is a blur. They tumble and roll, coming to a stop in
front of a giant steel door. The door is ajar. The sound of opera. A
ghostly fluorescent light from within. aNON and PaSCal en-
ter. MR. ZyClO sits alone in the room. He listens to opera on an
old victrola. He is a butcher in a white coat with a tiny blood stain.
He has one eye. He makes sausages with a meat grinder. He is
surrounded by packages of frozen meat, raw and shrink-wrapped.
aNON is transfixed by the packages of meat.)
MR. ZYCLO. a good sausage is one of life’s great pleasures. (To
PaSCal:) Do you like sausage? Here. For you.
 Anon(ymous) 35

(PaSCal approaches reluctantly, he eats the sausage.)

MR. ZYCLO. you like that? My secret recipe. Top secret. (To aNON:)
How about you? Sausage?
(aNON doesn’t move.)
MR. ZYCLO. Don’t you like sausage? No? No matter. More for me
and your friend then.
(MR. ZyClO eats sausage ravenously.)
PASCAL. we’re looking for work.
MR. ZYCLO. what kind of work?
PASCAL. whatever you have.
MR. ZYCLO. Times are tight. as you see, it’s just me now. I had to
let everyone else go.
PASCAL. we’re good workers. we can do anything, anything you
need.
ANON. Pssst. Pascal. Pascal—
PASCAL. what?
MR. ZYCLO. I could use some help cleaning up. I make a mess, my
line of work.
PASCAL. we could do that. How much?
MR. ZYCLO. Trust me. I’ll do right by you. what’s the matter with
your friend? Cat got his tongue?
ANON. what kind of meat is that?
MR. ZYCLO. Brain. It’s a delicacy. High in protein. Very rich. Fry it
up with a little garlic. Very tasty.
PASCAL. where do we start?
MR. ZYCLO. There’s a bucket and some sponges. I want you to
scrub, scrub, scrub. I’ll be back.
(MR. ZyClO exits. At the back of the room, there’s another door.
aNON examines the machine. PaSCal start to clean. aNON
reaches out to touch the machine.)
ANON. look at this thing. look at how sharp it is.
PASCAL. leave it.
(aNON moves away from the machine. He looks around the room.)
36 Naomi Iizuka

ANON. It’s cold.

PASCAL. Don’t complain. we earn some money, and then we go.
ANON. How do we know he’s gonna pay us?
PASCAL. He’ll pay. Before you know it, we’ll earn enough money,
we can go anywhere. we can do whatever we want.
ANON. I don’t like this place.
PASCAL. It’s just a job. you think too much.
ANON. Maybe you don’t think enough.
PASCAL. Maybe you should shut up.
(ZyClO’S PeT BIRD bursts through the door at the back of the
room. She wears high heel shoes. She looks at aNON and PaS-
Cal. She squawks and then exits. The click click click of her heels.)
ANON. what’s in there?
(aNON opens the door. Slabs of meat hang from hooks. Blood
drips. The opera music grows in volume. MR. ZyClO appears.
He holds a hatchet. He approaches PaSCal and aNON as he
speaks.)
MR. ZYCLO. Have you seen my bird? I have a little pet bird. I feed
her little morsels from my hand. She’s very tame. I coo to her and
she coos back. This is my freezer. It’s very cold. aren’t you cold? I
have to keep it cold like this or else the meat gets bad. look at all
this meat. Isn’t it strange? when you cut off the head and scrape off
the skin, when you boil away the fat and the gristle, it’s hard to tell
what something was. was it a cow? Or a pig? Or a goat? was it a
little baby lamb? Or was it something else? a different kind of meat?
Fleshy and tender and vaguely familiar. Do you know what goes
into my sausages? Do you know what makes them so mouth-water-
ingly delicious? Do you have an idea? The tiniest inkling? what? Cat
got your tongue?
(MR. ZyClO raises the hatchet. Blackout. The sound of the
hatchet whizzing through the air and then a dull thud as it hits.
The sound of the giant steel door closing. The sound of opera stops.
Then the sound of a bird whistling.)
 Anon(ymous) 37

16.

(Lights up. The giant steel door to the outside is closed. MR. ZyC-
lO is making sausages with a meat grinder. Blood is everywhere,
on the floor, on the walls. His white coat is splattered with blood.
PaSCal is gone. aNON watches MR. ZyClO. ZyClO’S
PeT BIRD clicks and paces frantically. The click click click of her
high heel shoes. She chirps and squawks and caws throughout the
scene trying to speak.)
ANON. where’s my friend?
MR. ZYCLO. what friend?
ANON. His name’s Pascal. and he was here, he was right here just
a second ago.
MR. ZYCLO. There’s nobody here named Pascal. you must be con-
fused. There’s just me and you and my little pet bird.
ANON. He was right here. He was standing right here.
MR. ZYCLO. what was your name again? I don’t think you ever said.
ANON. Uh, monkey.
MR. ZYCLO. Monkey. How delightful. you do look a little like a
monkey, one of those worried little monkeys you see in the zoo.
They look like little old men, nibbling on a piece of fruit, scratching
at their fleas, racing around their cage looking for a way out except,
of course, there is no way out.
(ZyClO’S BIRD squawks.)
MR. ZYCLO. what a noisy bird. I used to have two, but then one of
them, he flew away.
(aNON tries to open the steel door.)
MR. ZYCLO. Now I keep the door shut tight or else she’ll fly away,
too, and then I’ll be all alone.
(ZyClO’S BIRD squawks and caws frantically. A crescendo of
squawking.)
MR. ZYCLO. Be QUIeT, BIRD, OR I’ll COOK yOU IN a POT. (To
aNON:) How do you like your meat, monkey? well done or rare?
(aNON doesn’t respond. MR. ZyClO opens a box, takes out a
bottle of wine, uncorks it.)
38 Naomi Iizuka

MR. ZYCLO. “Rare, please. I like my meat rare.” what about a glass
of wine? “O yes please. a glass of wine would be delightful.” Only, I
have to tell you, I’m a little tired of cabernets. I prefer chianti. a good
chianti can be just the thing.
(ZyClO’S BIRD chirps frantically to aNON.)
ANON. I, I, I don’t know much about wine.
MR. ZYCLO. No?
ANON. No.
MR. ZYCLO. well why would you? It’s just wine.
ANON. I’ve always wanted to learn.
MR. ZYCLO. Really.
ANON. I just never knew anyone who knew anything about wine.
Not like yourself.
MR. ZYCLO. Some people are such snobs about wine. My feeling is,
you like what you like. There’s no right or wrong. There’s only what
you like. Here I’ll show you.
(MR. ZyClO pours a little wine in a glass.)
Now here we have a lovely vintage. Full bodied, robust. Twirl it, see
how it streaks, That’s what it should do, that’s exactly what it should
do. and then we sniff. and now we taste. ah. Oaky.
(MR. ZyClO finishes the glass. And then he downs the bottle.)
MR. ZYCLO. Fine wine is one of life’s great pleasures. It’s civilized.
we live in nasty, brutish times. I try to remember what it is to be
civilized. linen napkins. Opera. Fine wine. Because it matters. It
means something. But sometimes it can be so lonely, it can be so
very lonely. you have no idea. It’s nice to have someone to share a
glass of wine with. I’ll miss you when you go.
ANON. Go?
MR. ZYCLO. THwaCK. THwaCK. Sausage doesn’t grow on trees.
Sorry, monkey. That’s just the way it is. and then it will just be me
and my little bird. My little bird keeps me company, but she’s sad.
She had a little baby bird, but he flew away.
ANON. Maybe if you left the door open, he’d fly back.
MR. ZYCLO. O you’re very tricky. But if I open the door, you’ll run
away, my little sausage-to-be.
 Anon(ymous) 39

ANON. Sssh. listen. I think I hear a bird outside.

(MR. ZyClO opens the heavy steel door.)
MR. ZYCLO. No bird.
ANON. I swore I heard a bird just now.
(ZyClO’S PeT BIRD chirps.)
There. listen.
(ZyClO’S PeT BIRD chirps again.)
MR. ZYCLO. was that a bird? Cheep? Cheep? Cheep? O I feel so
sleepy. So very very sleepy.
(MR. ZyClO collapses in a drunken stupor. ZyClO’S PeT
BIRD comes over to aNON. The click click click of her high heel
shoes. She takes her shoe off and gives it to aNON. aNON ap-
proaches MR. ZyClO, raises the shoe and smashes it down. He
puts out MR. ZyClO’s one good eye with the heel. MR. ZyClO
shrieks.)
MR. ZYCLO. My eye! My eye! what have you done to my eye? I
can’t see. I can’t see anything. My eye, my eye! It’s killing me!
(MR. ZyClO hears aNON and his PeT BIRD.)
little bird?
(MR. ZyClO approaches aNON.)
little bird? Is that you?
(MR. ZyClO lunges towards aNON. aNON overpowers MR.
ZyClO and shoves meat into his mouth.)
ANON. HOw’S THaT? HOw DOeS THaT TaSTe? IS IT FUll-
BODIeD? IS IT ROBUST? IS IT CIVIlIZeD eNOUGH FOR yOU?
(MR. ZyClO’S BIRD shrieks. Frenzied, she descends on MR.
ZyClO. She is all nails and teeth and stiletto heels. MR. ZyClO
howls. A chaos of feathers and screeching and blood. aNON slips
through the giant steel door.)
40 Naomi Iizuka

17.

(aNON runs. He runs. He runs. The world transforms into a gi-

ant freeway. The sound of the interstate like an ocean. Fields of tall
grass as far as the eye can see. A wind makes the grass rustle and
whisper. aNON doubles over, winded, unable to run any further.
IGNaCIO appears through the grass.)
ANON. Hey. wait. which way do I go? I don’t know which way to
go. Say something. why don’t you say something?
(BeleN appears behind aNON. She holds a small suitcase.)
BELEN. He cannot.
(aNON turns around, startled. He sees BeleN. The sound of the
tall grass rustling and whispering.)
My name is Belen. what’s your name?
ANON. Nobody. I’m nobody. Do I know you? I feel like I know you.
BELEN. Maybe from a past life. Do you remember me from a past
life?
ANON. I don’t remember.
BELEN. when you die, they say you forget. you forget where you
come from. you forget the people you love. That’s what dying
means: to forget. So you have to try very hard to remember. you
have to keep what you love right in front of you, like a shiny coin at
the bottom of a well.
(The sound of NeMaSaNI singing. NeMaSaNI appears.
aNON sees her.)
ANON. I need to get back. I need to find my way back. I need to find
my way home.
BELEN. where’s home?
ANON. Far away.
BELEN. How far?
ANON. Far. Very far.
(NeMaSaNI fades away. The singing fades away. All that’s left
is the sound of the tall grass rustling and whispering. IGNaCIO
whispers to BeleN.)
ANON. what’s he saying?
 Anon(ymous) 41

BELEN. He says we should go now. He says we’ll die if we stay here.

He says if we’re lucky a truck will come by and we can get a ride. He
says I should go with you. He says you’ll protect me. (To IGNaCIO:)
Poppa, wait—
(BeleN tries to follow IGNaCIO, but she can’t. He walks away
into the tall grass without looking back. The wind murmurs. Bel-
eN and aNON watch as IGNaCIO disappears.)
ANON. why doesn’t he come with us now?
BELEN. He would, if he could.
ANON. why can’t he?
BELEN. when my father left our village, he promised to come back
and get me. He never made it. He died on his way back. Don’t you
see? My father is a ghost.
(The wind picks up. A howling wind. A truck thunders by. Head-
lights. The sound of brakes.)

18.

(The cab of a truck speeding down the freeway. STRyGal drives.

BeleN sits between aNON and STRyGal. The inside of the
truck is hot. The faint sound of tapping.)
STRYGAL. Hot enough for ya? Oooh boy is it hot. Never used to
be this hot. It’s the ozone. The ozone’s all messed up. So where you
kids headed to?
ANON. Home.
STRYGAL. Home sweet home. That’s nice. So where’s home? Far
away is what I’m guessing. what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?
ANON. what did you say?
STRYGAL. what? Cat got your tongue? ah it’s just a thing my dad
used to say.
ANON. your dad? who was your dad?
STRYGAL. why do you care? He wasn’t nobody. He was just a
mean old drunk. Owned a butcher shop out in the boonies. Had one
good eye. Can you believe it? liked to listen to opera. If there’s one
thing I can’t stand it’s opera. I hate opera. (To BeleN:) whaddya got
in that suitcase, girly girl? Diamonds? Rubies? State secrets?
42 Naomi Iizuka

(STRyGal reaches over to touch BeleN.)

ANON. Hey.
STRYGAL. Relax, pal. Relax. I was just picking some lint off the lit-
tle lady’s dress, just a little piece of fuzz. Hot, huh? It must be over a
hundred. I’m sweatin like a pig.
(The sound of tapping grows.)
ANON. what’s that sound?
STRYGAL. Could be the muffler.
ANON. what’s in back? what are you hauling?
STRYGAL. This and that. It’s a cash business. I don’t ask a lot of
questions.
ANON. I can hear something. There.
STRYGAL. word to the wise, pal: keep your nose out of where it
don’t belong.
ANON. I think we should stop. I think we should stop and check.
STRYGAL. look, I already stopped for you and your little friend
here, out of the goodness of my heart. I’m not stopping anymore.
I’m already running late. (To BeleN:) anybody ever tell you, you’re
very pretty. you got very pretty hair.
(The sound of tapping is joined by the distant sound of murmur-
ing voices.)
STRYGAL. This clown, he’s not your boyfriend is he? He can’t be.
you’re too young to have a boyfriend. you’re real quiet, ain’t you. I
like that. I can’t stand girls who yak and yak and can’t shut up. I like
quiet girls. you speak english? I’ll teach you how to speak english.
ANON. listen. There right there. Somebody’s back there. who’s
back there?
STRYGAL. Nobody.
ANON. There’s people back there. I can hear them. How many peo-
ple are back there?
STRYGAL. That’s none of your business, pal.
ANON. It’s too hot. They’ll suffocate. Stop the truck.
STRYGAL. you gotta be kidding me.
ANON. I said stop the truck. Pull over.
 Anon(ymous) 43

STRYGAL. No.
(aNON grabs the wheel. aNON and STRyGal struggle for
control of the wheel.)
STRYGAL. wHaT’Re yOU DOING? aRe yOU OUTTa yOUR
MIND?
BELEN. STOP—
ANON. PUll OVeR—
STRYGAL. NO—
BELEN. wHaT aRe yOU DOING?
ANON. I SaID PUll OVeR—
STRYGAL. aRe yOU INSaNe?
BELEN. waIT—
(The blare of a horn. Bright light fills the cab of the truck. Crash.
Darkness.)

19.

(Darkness. Inside the back of Strygal’s truck. CHORUS OF

ReFUGeeS in the darkness.)
CHORUS OF REFUGEES.
My name was Maria I came to america on a ship.
My name was ahmet I came to america in a truck.
My name was Soo Chai I walked a thousand miles.
My name was Roberto I crossed a giant desert.
My name was Farid It was so hot I couldn’t breathe.
My name was aram It was so cold, my fingers froze.
My name was yelena I traveled in the night.
My name was Tiang I always traveled in the night.
My name was Maricella I was afraid.
My name was Sanjit I made no sound.
My name was Pran I was invisible.
My name was Malik I was like the murmuring wind.
My name was Jiang tsu I was the edge of a shadow.
My name was Fatima I was flicker out of the corner of your
eye.
My name was yousif I came here to make a better life.
My name was Duc I had so many hopes.
44 Naomi Iizuka

My name was Saiid I had so many dreams.

My name was Chia But I died
My name was Miguel I died
My name was Trinh I died along the way.
My name was Faisal Please tell my sister.
My name was Meena Tell my brother
My name was abraham Tell my father
My name was Song Tell my mother
My name was Joseph Tell my son
My name was alicia Tell my daughter
Remember me Remember me.
Remember me.
(A howling wind. The sound of metal doors being pushed open.
The CHORUS OF ReFUGeeS spills out from the darkness. They
are ghosts. They disperse. A howling wind. aNON emerges from
the wreckage cut and bleeding.)

20.

(A city. Night. The sounds of traffic. A pay phone ringing. The

sounds of transistor radios playing songs from Southeast Asia
and the Middle East. A fragment of a telenovela on the TV. The
sound of street vendors. A distant siren. A door appears. aNON
goes through the door. He is inside a dive bar. Dim reddish light.
Ancient cigarette smoke. Mirrors. A juke box plays an old song.
Could be Patsy Cline. Could be something else. SeRZa wipes
down the bar. The BaRFlIeS dance.)
SERZA. well look at what the cat dragged in. welcome to the last
stop, stranger, the end of the road, rock bottom. Come on in. Make
yourself at home. we’re all friends here. The more the merrier, right?
(The BaRFlIeS snort.)
ANON. water. Please. Can I have a glass of water?
(SeRZa pours him a glass of water. aNON begins to drink.)
SERZA. I gotta charge you for that, sugar. you know that, right?
ANON. I don’t have any money.
SERZA. No money? you come in here and ask me for a drink and
you don’t have any money? what? Does it look like I’m running
some kind of charity? Is that what it looks like to you? (To the BaR-
FlIeS:) He thinks I’m running a charity.
 Anon(ymous) 45

(The BaRFlIeS snort. aNON pushes the half drunk glass of wa-
ter back across the bar.)
SERZA. Never mind, take it. Just take it. It’s on the house.
(aNON drinks. SeRZa studies him.)
SERZA. what happened to you? you get in a fight?
ANON. No. It wasn’t like that.
SERZA. what was it like?
ANON. I don’t want to talk about it.
SERZA. you got someplace to go?
ANON. No.
SERZA. you’re just a kid. you should go home. Just go on home.
ANON. I don’t have a home. I don’t have a family. I don’t have that.
I don’t have anyone.
(aNON starts to exit and stumbles.)
SERZA. Hey hey hey, it’s OK. It’s all right.
(SeRZa cleans off the blood from the side of aNON’s face.
aNON lets her. The song on the juke box plays.)
ANON. It hurts. It’s like all these bad things keep happening and I
can’t stop them. It’s like everyone I get close to, they all go away. It’s
like they all go away and there’s nothing I can do.
(The song on the juke box plays.)
SERZA. Ssssh. you’re getting yourself all worked up. you gotta let
it go. you gotta just let it go. Dance with me. why don’t you dance
with me.
(The song on the juke box plays. aNON and SeRZa begin to
dance. The BaRFlIeS dance. aNON begins to pull away.)
ANON. I gotta go.
SERZA. you don’t want to go. Just stay. Stay a while. you can stay
here as long you want. you can stay here forever.
(aNON struggles to get out of Serza’s bar. A mist rolls in. Sheets
and sheets of billowing fog. The bar slowly fills with fog. The song
on the juke box begins to distort. aNON sees IGNaCIO walk-
ing in the distance. He pulls away from SeRZa and approaches
IGNaCIO. SeRZa recedes from view.)
46 Naomi Iizuka

21.

(The world is engulfed in fog. The distant sound of war. IGNa-

CIO is walking away. aNON tries to catch up with him, but he
can’t.)
ANON. Hey. wait. wait, come back.
(IGNaCIO vanishes. STRyGal appears. Ghostly white. He
clutches the steering wheel of his truck.)
Hey. I want to talk to you. Hey.
(STRyGal vanishes. BeleN appears. She’s holding her suit-
case. She’s walking past aNON.)
Belen? Belen, is that you?
(BeleN turns around. aNON sees her dress is red with blood.)
Belen, wait.
(BeleN continues walking away. aNON tries to follow her, but
he can’t keep up. He loses her. The sound of war. PaSCal ap-
pears.)
PASCAL. where I come from soldiers came to my village. I saw
them coming, and I ran into the forest. I hid beneath the leaves. I
was so still. I could hear everything. I could hear the sound of fire
and men shouting. I could hear my little brother. I could hear him
crying and my mother saying don’t cry, don’t cry. I could hear the
machetes. I could hear their screams. and then it was quiet. It was so
quiet. all I could hear was the sound of my heart beating. will you
remember me?
ANON. Pascal?
PASCAL. when you’re old and you look back, will you remember
me? will you remember a friend who died long ago?
(PaSCal recedes from view.)
ANON. Pascal? Pascal, wait—
CHORUS OF REFUGEES.
I disappeared.
I became invisible.
I ran away.
I escaped.
I shed my skin.
I changed my name.
 Anon(ymous) 47

I became anonymous.
My name is anonymous.
My name is anonymous.
My name is anonymous.
ANON.
My name is anonymous.
My name is anonymous.
My name is anonymous.
(The sounds of war grow closer. The CHORUS OF ReFUGeeS
disperses in all different directions. The whistling of bombs falling
from the sky. They get closer. aNON hears a woman singing a
fragment of a familiar song. NeMaSaNI becomes visible. She
sings. aNON begins to go towards her. The sound of a bomb fall-
ing. NaJa appears and pulls aNON out of the path of the explo-
sion. The world shatters. Brilliant light. Dust motes swirling in
the light. Then darkness.)

22.

(aNON is alone in the darkness.)

ANON. There was a war and me and my mom, we escaped on a
boat. and then there was a storm, and the boat we were on sank
and lots of people drowned. I know this for a fact. and later I was
in a refugee camp. and then later I was adopted by a nice american
family. These are facts.
(Light on NICe aMeRICaN FaMIly posing for a photograph.
The FaTHeR is played by the actor playing Senator Laius, the
MOTHeR is played by the actor playing Helen Laius, and the
DaUGHTeR is played by the actor playing CalISTa.)
They lived in a fancy house full of so many things. But they weren’t
my family and it wasn’t my home. and I ran away. That’s a fact, too.
These are all facts. But facts are only part of the story.
(Camera flash. the NICe aMeRICaN FaMIly recedes from
view.)
48 Naomi Iizuka

23.

(Light up on RITU, alI, and NaSReeN in the kitchen of an

Indian restaurant.)
ANON. I think that your life is made up of all these bits and pieces.
and sometimes the pieces don’t fit together. There’s a piece that’s
missing. and you try to fill in the blanks, you try to remember, and
sometimes you can see a shape of something you can almost make
out, you can almost see a face—
RITU. your mother’s face.
ANON. yes.
RITU. There’s a place I know. On the other side of town. I worked
there when we first came to this country. I sewed clothes: blue jeans,
T shirts. It was a terrible place.
ALI. It was a sweatshop. They should’ve shut it down years ago.
all those women from all those different countries. So many women
from all over the world. ah, Ritu—
RITU. yes, ali. yes.
ANON. what are you saying?
RITU. It’s a small world, stranger, smaller than you think.
ANON. you think my mother—? That’s crazy.
RITU. Is it?
ANON. what are the chances? One in a million?
RITU. what do you have to lose? There’s no way to know unless
you go and see. you’ve come this far. Trust me. I have an idea. Nas-
reen, put the rice on. ali, get the ghee. (To aNON:) Now listen to me,
listen carefully.
(RITU explains her plan to aNON. NaSReeN and alI begin
to prepare food. The sound of cooking. The chopping of vegetables.
Running water. Bursts of flame. The sound of sizzling and bub-
bling. The sound of creation. The kitchen fills with steam.)
 Anon(ymous) 49

24.

(The kitchen transforms into the sewing factory. The SewING

laDIeS sew. MR. MaCKUS strides towards NeMaSaNI.
SewING laDy #2 follows him.)
MR. MACKUS. (To NeMaSaNI:) lIeS lIeS lIeS! I’ve had it with
your lies! I’m onto you. you tell me you’re going to marry me when
this shroud is done, but it’s never going to be done, is it? Is it? Be-
cause you undo it in the night when no one’s looking—except for
Vanna here who happened to see what you were up to and had the
decency to tell me. Thank you, Vanna. as for you, you deceitful,
duplicitous, mendacious minx, your little charade is over. we’re get-
ting married now. No more stalling. No more delays.
(Enter aNON with Indian take out.)
MR. MACKUS. who are you? what do you want? why are you here?
ANON. Somebody ordered take out.
MR. MACKUS. who? Not me. I didn’t order any take out. I’ve al-
ready eaten. and they don’t eat. Not when I eat. I don’t know when
they eat. That’s not my concern. why am I telling you this? why am
I even talking to you? I don’t have to explain myself.
(NeMaSaNI starts to exit.)
MR. MACKUS. where do you think you’re going? we have things
to do. we’re getting married. and then we’re going to live HaPPIly
eVeR aFTeR! HaPPy HaPPy HaPPy! THe eND!
ANON. leave her alone.
MR. MACKUS. what did you say?
ANON. you heard me.
MR. MACKUS. Is someone talking? I think it must be a little fly is
buzzing around my head. O it’s not a fly. It’s you. and who are you
again? I’ll tell you who you are. you’re nobody. you’re a tiny cock-
roach I squash with my hand. you’re a piece of lint I flick off my
jacket. you’re chewing gum on the bottom of my shoe. you’re face-
less and nameless. you’re a dime a dozen, people like you.
(NeMaSaNI tries to get free of MR. MaCKUS.)
MR. MACKUS. Stop it. Be still.
NEMASANI. you’re hurting me.
MR. MACKUS. Be still.
50 Naomi Iizuka

ANON. leave her alone.

MR. MACKUS. leave her alone. you want me to leave her alone.
That’s funny. you’re funny. you’re a funny funny guy.
(MR. MaCKUS draws a sword.)
MR. MACKUS. Make me, little fly.
(NaJa appears. She throws a sword to aNON.)
ANON. OK. If you insist.
(aNON and MR. MaCKUS battle like ancient warriors. An
aerial, acrobatic battle. They twist and tumble and kick They use
pieces of the sewing factory—spindles and scissors and bolts of
cloth and spools of colored thread. The sound of slashing. A chaos
of cloth. A tangle of thread. aNON corners MR. MaCKUS.)
MR. MACKUS. O please don’t kill me, don’t kill me, please don’t
kill me—what was your name, stranger? Friend? I don’t think I
caught it.
ANON. Call me anonymous.
(aNON cuts a single thread with his sword. A ton of clothes rain
down from the ceiling. MR. MaCKUS is buried in an avalanche
of clothes. NaJa pushes open an exit door. A wind blows in from
the outdoors. The sound of voices carried on the wind, echoes. the
CHORUS OF ReFUGeeS echoes what came before.)
THE CHORUS OF REFUGEES.
where I come from is far away from here—
Is oxen in rice field—
Is hills the color of green tea—
Is jungles filled with jaguars—
and pythons thick as a grown man’s thigh—
Is poison frogs the size of a thumbnail—
and squirrels that can fly from tree to tree—
Is waterfalls taller than the tallest skyscraper—
Is olive trees and ancient desert—
Is sampans and temple bells—
Is sandstorms—
and monsoon rains—
Is tapir and okapi—
and electric blue butterflies with wings as wide as my arms—
(NeMaSaNI’s shroud transforms into a butterfly and flies
away.)
 Anon(ymous) 51

25.

(The rooftop of the sewing factory. Sunset. The sky is fuchsia and
tangerine and indigo blue. aNON and NeMaSaNI are alone.)
NEMASANI. where I come from, there are butterflies like nothing
you’ve ever seen.
ANON. Blue.
NEMASANI. yes, blue so blue.
ANON. with huge wings.
NEMASANI. Huge.
ANON. (Spreading his arms:) like this. Bigger even.
NEMASANI. yes. (Recognizing something in aNON:) yes.
ANON. I remember.
(NeMaSaNI and aNON look at each other.)
ANON. what if I told you—?
NEMASANI. No. Don’t say it—
ANON. what if somehow—
NEMASANI. Please don’t—
ANON. But what if—
NEMASANI. I don’t believe in “what if.” “what if” will break your
heart.
ANON. you have a son—
NEMASANI. My son died. He died a long time ago. He was just a
little boy and he died.
ANON. what if he didn’t?
NEMASANI. Stop—
ANON. what if he survived?
NEMASANI. I said stop—
ANON. Please listen to me—
NEMASANI. No. No. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
(NeMaSaNI begins to exit.)
ANON.
what do you remember?
52 Naomi Iizuka

Because what I remember, what I remember is you.

How you used to hold me.
you held me and you sang to me.
I remember the song you sang to me.
(Somewhere in the night the sound of a woman singing an an-
cient song. NeMaSaNI turns and looks back at aNON. She
approaches him.)
NEMASANI. How can I know you are who you say you are?
ANON.
I’ll tell you the story of my life and then you can decide.
It begins in the middle
On the border
On the crossing.
It begins in the place in between.
(The song continues. NeMaSaNI approaches aNON. The
sounds of the city begin to filter through and fuse with the ancient
song. They make a new song. It grows like a beautiful hybrid bloom
in the wilderness.)
End of Play