THE HUMMINGBIRD, TWO ACT PLAY CONTINUES, SECOND EXCERPT

EMMA JEAN

Survival. Wanting to survive. Hope that maybe we could survive.

CHORUS

Hope!

MURDOCH

See. See. That is why I had to create her,
my beloved Emma Jean. If this ordeal has taught
me anything, it is that we were not meant to be alone.
Existence makes no sense without the other.
The speaker must have his hearer.
The actor must have his audience. The great duality.

HOMER

Moves stage front, plays drum while dancing to remind us of the rhythm.
Two more weeks of the violence of the sea.

CHORUS

Hope!

MURDOCH

See. See. That is why I had to create her, my beloved Emma Jean.
We were not meant to be alone. The world is not a one.
The world is a two and multiples of two.
We do not exist without the great duality.
We may think we are alone because we may talk to ourselves.

EMMA JEAN

The speaker must have his hearer.
The actor must have his audience.
The preacher must have her someone to preach to.
The teacher must have his someone to teach.
The dancer must have her partner.
The writer must have the great other.


CHORUS

Self and other.

MURDOCH

We are not meant to be alone.

CHORUS

The great duality.

MURDOCH

We are not meant to be alone.

CHORUS

The great each other.

HOMER

Moves stage front, plays drum while dancing to remind us of the rhythm.

Two more weeks of the roll endless role of endless ocean
interrupted by the meanness, violence of unwanted storm
two more weeks of not knowing his exact location,
down to the last fresh water in the fresh water tanks,
down to the last stored food in the galley or the hold,
exhausted, dehydrated, sick, and still full of despair
still missing the noisy, fidgety, always squawking parrot
that presence constantly reminding him “nils desperandum”
“don’t despair, don’t despair, don’t despair,”
starting to hallucinate, seeing himself doing battle with narwhale,
then narwhal transforming into fire breathing sea dragons

Murdoch steps down on to stage front and holding what looks like a splintered mast in a thrust position as in a joust pantomimes a battle with an imagined sea monster.

Murdoch and the wreck that was now the windmill boat
finally made it to a shore and a chance of being saved.
And with him was Emma Jean, soft beautiful other,
she who had helped him remember the gentle things
in the middle of a vast angry seemingly limitless ocean.
And with him was that perfect realist, seasoned veteran,
that PhD in cynicism, in all that could go wrong,
he who loved to berate Murdoch for all the ways he’d failed—
or anyway appeared to fail in terms of his too harsh judgment—
failures and suppositions of failure.

Murdoch exits stage rear center. Ship’s helm and titter-totter are removed off back of stage. Cushioned area stage right front in the form of a combination of rocks and foliage is set up stage front right. This will be used by Murdoch after he reenters stage.


CHORUS

O Calliope, our muse, our inspiration in days when heroes
like Achilles, Ajax, Odysseus seemed strong as mountains
and able to best the most brutal, the most pugnacious of foes
he newly reborn and not knowing how much time or strength
he’s granted, give him the fire, the wisdom to tell this new story.

HOMER

Plays guitar, more rhythmic thumping of the drum, more dancing..

Let me strum my lyre, let me pound my drum as I sing
of the challenges faced by a hero of this new span of time.
Junior, our seaside country observer, told his story well as able
of the plight of Murdoch after being blown from the bay,
but he was removed, had to rely on intermittent reporting
whereas I speak to all the untold spirits of the dead
ever vigilant about the happenings here in this world
and to all who still watch from the empyrean, jaded immortals.
Thus am I the more reliable reporter of events that took place
once Murdoch’s damaged vessel reached the African coast.

CHORUS

O let us sing of Africa, of all the turmoil that Murdoch faced,
and let our emotions stay cool as we speak of the desperation
when his sick craft, The New Paradise, reached that coast.

HOMER

Never would that glorious vessel cruise again.
Murdoch’s dream destroyed on African rocks.
Never would he challenge another schooner to a race.

Murdoch in rags staggers on stage from stage rear. At first he positions himself stage left, speaks to the sky.
MURDOCH

I need something else, some new idea if I am going to save the world.

Ashante and Emma Jean enter from stage rear and position themselves stage left. Ashante has a small rounded covered flask containing liquid which she carries over a shoulder. Murdoch staggers about like a shipwrecked sailor stage right as the chorus continues its narration. Finally Murdoch finds a place to lie down—the area looking like rocks and foliage positioned stage front right.


CHORUS

Out of control, starving, without water, came he crashing ashore
at a smooth place, perhaps by divine guidance, free of jagged rocks.
Using some ropes, still intact, he shimmied down a post,
down to the smooth flatness of stone, of rock, of sand, of soil,
stumbled forward he fell on a bed of seaweed, fell fast asleep.

HOMER

After pounding on the drum.

There on crisp pods, in the hot African sun, slept the inventor,
slept the scion of kings, slept the poet Murdoch McLoon,
slept he who would save the world if only he had the method,
slept creator of boat sporting windmill, sporting dome,
slept he who had lost a very noisy, very screechy parrot,
slept he who lost a boat driven by wind and whirling blades,
slept he who was at first not of sound mind, barely conscious
slept he who did battle with narwhals and sea dragons.

ASHANTE and EMMA JEAN

Slept not far from savanna, not far from cheetah and bongo,
pygmy hippo, nightjar, forest beetle, grey parrot, and giraffe,
slept not far from trees and thick lush forest foliage
slept not far from bougainvillea, heliconia, alpinia, ettingera
in the tropical heat of that relentless African sun.

LUKE

Enters stage rear, moves as far stage front as possible.

Do I smell opportunity or what? This white man says he’s looking
for something new, something to save the world.
Maybe this something to save the world might be good for Luke Invictus,
me! Luke Invictus from a succession of kings of West Africa,
a line of once powerful rulers whose family lost everything
when the Europeans moved in and pushed us out.
Luke Invictus, a man with many many ideas of his own
about how to govern, about how things should be run.

Luke exits stage rear.

Murdoch reenters. Ashante pantomimes with Murdoch the narration provided by Homer and the chorus


CHORUS

Slept deeply, slept our hero, fanned by coastal breezes
when several hours having passed, chanced on near him
a tall dark female from a remnant of the Ewe tribe—
the Ewe, a once proud people, rich in centuries of history
before the era when European speculators and exploiters
used the might of their homeland’s military power
to engage in the ugliness of the trade in people.



Gazing on the exhausted, sunburned American,
still sound asleep, hair entangled, thoroughly wasted,
the young woman felt herself filling with feeling.
This white man had come from a distance, she reasoned.
Then saw she the boat half in water, but land imprisoned,
and it struck her her assumption must be correct.
In a jug she carried bissap, the drink of the region,
reddish drink made of ground hibiscus flowers.
Kneeling, she touched the jug to his lips, then poured.

At first, startled, half choking as he suddenly awakened,
Murdoch soon found the liquid trickling down his throat
as pleasant, as quenching as a spring in the mountains.
Opening eyelids encrusted with salt and burned by sun,
he took some time to focus on the lovely brown face
with dark radiant eyes, sweet mouth framed by smooth skin
hovering within an arm’s length of his prostrate body.

Speaking in clipped English acquired at a British school,
she spoke to him in a voice like the ringing of a soft bell.

ASHANTE

Hello, white man.

CHORUS

She said.

ASHANTE

Where are you from? My name is Ashante,
which means strong African woman
in my native tongue, and what should I call you?”

MURDOCH

Murdoch.