Goats

Liwaa Yazji, Katharine Halls

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9781848427204
• eBook ISBN: 9781780019970
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

'Has anyone ever told the truth? Has anyone ever demanded it? Does anyone want it? Does anyone even need it?'

In a small town in Syria, soldiers are celebrated as heroes and grieving families are nourished on propaganda.

As coffins pile up, a local party leader decides on a radical compensation scheme: a goat for each son martyred.

Goats is a major new work by Syrian playwright and documentary film-maker Liwaa Yazj, translated by Katharine Halls.

Developed as part of the Royal Court International Department's long-term project with writers from Syria and Lebanon, the play premiered
at the Royal Court Theatre, London, in the Jerwood Theatre Downstairs, on 24 November 2017, in a production directed by Hamish Pirie.

Scene One – Funeral

The main square. Afternoon. The screen is initially off. Funereal music. Coffins slowly appear, carried by MEN and TEENAGERS, who converge and place the coffins on the ground. There is scarcely enough space for all the coffins, which continue to appear.

The first coffins are fully draped in clean flags with bright colours, and some with bouquets and wreaths. As more coffins appear, the flags grow more faded and tattered, and smaller, so that the coffins aren’t properly covered. Likewise, the flowers are less and less frequent; some of the final coffins have been strewn with wildflowers. One of the coffins appears to have common mallow laid on it. ABU FIRAS accompanies the coffin of his son, Firas, never leaving its side, as he stands waiting impatiently.

People wait respectfully, but as time passes they start to shift restlessly. The sound of ululating fills the space as the WOMEN enter, weeping and wearing black, in a funeral tradition that is reminiscent of a wedding. The WOMEN try to squeeze their way in to the limited space. The MUNICIPALITY MEN, the PARTY MEMBERS and their BODYGUARDS arrive. JUDE and SAMI enter, carrying a large tray that bears an enormous, homemade-looking cake in the shape of a pair of military boots, and another in the shape of a bullet. VILLAGERS try to make space for them to set down the tray in its place, all eyes watching them intently. JUDE and SAMI are followed by a little BOY and GIRL dressed as bride and groom, shyly accompanying the tray. They wear hats with model military boots on them.

The screen suddenly turns on, showing the preparations underway in the mobile production truck. It looks as if the camera has turned on without the CAMERAMAN noticing. It moves about erratically, showing the crowds and then the PRESENTER doing her hair.

PRESENTER. Can we get started?

ABU AL-TAYYIB begins his speech suddenly and without preamble.

ABU AL-TAYYIB (on stage and screen. With a melodious voice and polished delivery). In the name of our innocent martyrs, the pride of our nation. We gather today to remember our nation’s martyrs, the brave members of the army and security services… And, of course, the others… For the sake of this precious nation, we stand for a minute’s silence.

Silence. On screen, close-up shots of the crowd give the impression of a reverent, awestruck atmosphere.

On the third of this month, armed terrorists assassinated our chief nuclear adviser. He died at home, here in our village. Two days before, armed terrorists assassinated a Professor of Chemistry. She was Dean of her faculty and had won the State Prize. These atrocities happened in a single week. The terrorists are targeting our best people – they hate knowledge, and they fear our freedom.

We are fighting back, and we have inflicted severe losses on the terrorists. But, in the last week alone, we have lost over eight hundred men defending our front line. Soldiers and civilians. That’s in one week, in a war that’s already lasted seven years.

We grieve for them. Our grief will not be diminished by hatred or revenge. But we are fighting on behalf of the entire civilised world. We shall kill and we shall be killed, but the nation will never die.

ABU KARIM (loudly). It’s a conspiracy! Against all of us.

ABU AL-TAYYIB (continuing). And your children are our children. Who among us has not lost a son? Who has not lost a brother or a husband? Yet now, here they are, returning to us. Here is our gentle Aziz. He fought to the very last. Aziz destroyed an entire terrorist cell. And now he is a great martyr.

IMM AZIZ ululates tearfully.

ABU LU’AY (gesturing to the cake). I swear on this blessing. My son Lu’ay, he called me from the front line. He said, ‘Dad, I wish you were here. To see what I’m doing to these cowards.’ And now, he is a martyr. My son, all our sons, they are willing to give their lives for this nation. If we won’t pay with our blood, who will?

ABU AL-TAYYIB (to ABU LU’AY). Absolutely! Your son has brought glory on your household, Abu Lu’ay, congratulations. (To IMM MARWAN.) Imm Marwan, your son was worth his weight in gold. What an honour for his young bride! (To IMM GHASSAN.) Imm Ghassan, your son was an officer, a pilot who never feared death, who wiped out terrorists from the air. You must be so proud that his home is now in the heavens.

ZAHRA ululates. IMM GHASSAN shows little reaction.

ZAHRA. My mother-in-law, Imm Ghassan, has sworn never to speak again. Never to speak another word, until she has avenged her son. We will never forgive the enemy for his death!

The VILLAGERS look surprised at this news. They whisper among themselves. IMM GHASSAN avoids their looks and questions.

ABU FIRAS is about to speak, but he is cut off immediately by ABU AL-TAYYIB.

ABU AL-TAYYIB. Abu Firas, you must be so proud of your courageous son. People in neighbouring villages were shielding terrorists and Firas tore those terrorists limb from limb. They are now so afraid of Firas, they dread hearing his name.

ABU FIRAS attempts to speak.

Now, I won’t keep you for much longer. You are all waiting impatiently to see your beloved sons embrace the soil of the land they held so dear. Allow me a few final words before we make our way to the cemetery. My good people. My dear, suffering people –

ABU FIRAS (interrupting quietly but clearly). Enough!

VILLAGERS (not in unison). Yeah… Enough! No more terrorism! Down with traitors! Enough!

ABU FIRAS (correcting himself). Enough of this madness!

ABU AL-TAYYIB is taken aback. Shock and consternation ripple through the crowd.

On screen, the camera cuts to show the faces of the TEENAGERS. They immediately stand up straighter.

ABU AL-TAYYIB. What do you mean, Abu Firas? I don’t follow!

ABU FIRAS (shaken but unhesitating). Think about it, and you will see what I mean.

On screen, IMM GHASSAN’s impassive face. She watches her son Ghassan’s coffin unflinchingly. One of the BODYGUARDS places himself in front of ABU FIRAS so as to block him from sight, but ABU AL-TAYYIB gestures to him to move aside.

VOICE (from the production truck). Shall we take this off the air?

The screen displays close-ups of the coffins, and photographs of the martyrs held up by VILLAGERS in the crowd, accompanied by mournful music.

On stage, the VILLAGERS are restive and uneasy.

ABU FIRAS. Abu al-Tayyib, I am not here to celebrate. You know that very well. My son is dead. A month ago, he left out of the blue. You all know I’ve been looking for him. Someone took him away from me, and now he’s been brought back in a sealed box! Where is Firas?

IMM RAMI. A sealed box!

OFFICIAL (to a BODYGUARD). Get them to stop the cameras. We don’t want a fuss.

ABU AL-TAYYIB (aside). No, we can’t do that. People will be expecting the evening programme. (To the PRESENTER.) Get on with it! (To ABU FIRAS.) Abu Firas, I know you well. I am sure you’re saying all this out of grief over Firas. We understand this is a cruel moment. It blinds you, makes you completely lose your bearings. Abu Firas, come back to your senses.

ABU FIRAS. These are our children. Not a TV programme.

Some VILLAGERS elbow towards ABU FIRAS and attempt to calm him with pleasantries. The screen shows snow, as if there has been a technical glitch, then cuts abruptly to footage of military parades and nationalist propaganda videos.

Why don’t you ask him about this?

ABU SALMA. He hasn’t been right since his son joined the army.

ABU FIRAS. My son didn’t join the army. My son was stolen.

ABU AHMAD. Now you sound like one of those human-rights people.

PRESENTER. I’m comple...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Original Production
• Acknowledgements
• Characters
• Note on Play
• Goats
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information