PLAYWRIGHT'S INTRODUCTION
Shortly after I started working with clients of the Medical Foundation for the Care of Victims of Torture,
I met a young woman from Rwanda, whose 'impulse' to write had started
in a refugee camp shortly after the murder of her entire family. What
started out as a testimonial act, the writing out of her family's
experience of genocide, became in addition an act of healing, as a
result of which she reported that she felt 'clean' and that her
nightmares and headaches had ceased. For two and a half years she had
worked on this book on her own, writing in her mother tongue and
wrestling day after day with her enormously painful story, often
tearing up the previous day's work at 5 o'clock in the morning, when
she started her daily writing. Even while she was immersed in the
process of writing her book, she recognised its therapeutic value,
talking about writing in order to take the pain "away from my heart."
The healing she achieved was done at enormous cost,
since it meant confronting and expressing with full force the negative
emotions that overwhelmed her in the years following the genocide. So
inspired was I by her story, that when I came to write something of my
own as part of my writing residency, it was infused with her spirit and
her struggle to write. I Have Before Me a Remarkable Document Given to
Me by a Young Lady from Rwanda tells the story of an uneasy
relationship between Simon, a struggling British poet in his
mid-forties and Juliette, a young survivor of the Rwandan genocide, who
comes to him for help with her book. My challenge as a playwright was
to transform this into a piece of theatre that would engage an
audience. Humour, remarkably, became an important component, to create
a sense of balance and draw the audience in, humour largely drawn from
the cultural divide between the Englishman and the young African woman.
It is this aspect of the play as well as Juliette's plight and
feistiness that audiences have most remarked upon.
Many people have commented on the lengthy title of my play,
some thinking it brilliantly arresting, others finding it annoyingly
unwieldy: "it takes up all the answer-phone tape at the box office,"
"it uses up too much space in the listings column," "it'll frighten
audiences away because it has the word Rwanda in it" are some of the
criticisms I've received. Whenever I've been challenged in this way,
I've been reminded of the response of another author of another work on
Rwanda: Philip Gourevitch called his book We Wish to Inform You That
Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families. Like my title, it was a
quote from the text, but here the quote was taken from real life
– the desperate cry for help from 7 pastors in charge of two
thousand terrified Tutsis taking shelter in a church compound. The help
was not forthcoming. For Gourevitch, impatience with his title seemed
symptomatic of the West's indifference to a genocide taking place in a
tiny country, off the map, in faraway darkest Africa. Similarly, my
long title is a deliberate challenge to our short attention span where
Rwanda is concerned.
As the daughter of refugees from Nazi Germany, I
have felt all the more compelled to draw attention to this appalling
late chapter in twentieth century history, a chapter that has such
strong parallels with the Final Solution. Tragically, as I write this,
a new genocide threatens in Western Sudan, transgressing once more the
idealism of the post-Holocaust slogan of 'Never Again.'
– Sonja Linden, September 2004
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