J'Ouvert

Yasmin Joseph

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9781786827838
• eBook ISBN: 9781786827821
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

Winner of the James Tait Black Prize for Drama 2020 "What people you know can party through all of the earth's elements?" Carnival is here. The streets of Notting Hill are alive with history and amongst the pulsating soca, dazzling colour, and endless sequins and feathers, Jade and Nadine are fighting for space in a world they thought was theirs. A timely reflection on the Black British experience and sexual politics of Carnival, J'Ouvert is a piercing, hilarious and fearless story of two best friends, battling to preserve tradition in a society where women's bodies are frequently under threat.

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

Darkness. A stream of chocolate pours onto the stage. NADINE’s silhouette appears beneath it, she smothers her limbs, her features are obscured. After some time…

NADINE: Do you feel free?

The distant sound of carnival revellers.

Do you feel free?

Beat.

When you wake up in the morning and pull your hair tight to hide the strays. Choke yourself up to the chin in nylon. Squeeze your foot and feel the crunch of those hard soles, do you feel free?

Beat.

I’m asking, do you feel free? Because I see you looking at me. Half in awe, half in disgust, more worried for me than I am for myself… But does watching me make you free?

Beat.

Because you see me? I’m on top of the world. Can’t feel my tongue. Can’t remember yesterday. Can’t see tomorrow. I’m here. I’m now. I’m that finger on the pulse.

Horns.

And when I think of Freedom. I think of the taste of its sweet revenge. Thick and smooth like honey as it slips down our throats, quenching the anger of our ancestors and swallowing their cries. We’re here because everything else was taken. What was broken in spirit, we revived with song.

She smothers herself more ferociously with chocolate.

J’Ouvert.

Machel Montano – ‘In We Blood’. Rises slowly.

We race to beat the sun.

Beat.

Our muddied limbs obscure “he” from “she” and force our heirs and graces onto the ground.

Beat.

Bodies tingling with anticipation, limbs, faces, torsos, smeared with chocolate, some with oil, others shaking loose the empty bags of coloured powder. Waiting to exhale to the soothing thud of Soca. Every year the barriers get closer and tighter. The roads narrower and smaller. Police bigger and angrier. And we release… Release the pain. Release the anger. Release the laughter. Release!

A surge of energy pushes against her, she forces back.

RELEASE!

Darkness. We feel the electric of J’Ouvert celebrations/Dutty Mas around the world. Dashes of light. We hear the lyrics of Machel Montano ‘In We Blood’ with clarity.

“Show dem de Culture is how we fete with powder,

We gettin paint up and wettin down with water,

If dat behaviour is ah part ah yuh nature,

I say come forward, come forward, come forward!

It’s in we blood”

Her body is rocked again. She pushes back with all she has left.

RELEASE!

Silence for a while. She pants as if recovering from an exorcism.

And that’s when I see them… clearly.

Beat.

Ghosts… My ancestors… Carnival women of present and past, dancing. Blurring the lines of reality and dust. Shielding the shoulders of people who don’t even know they’re there.

Beat.

They look at me. Right through me.

Beat.

Right through to the truth in my bones. To the voice of prayer asking for forgiveness for this skin. To the doubt. To the judgment. To the neck that turns at night ignoring their faces, pretending they aren’t there, pretending I can’t hear. Right to my gut.

Beat.

And still… they fill my skin with light, urging me to move.

Beat. NADINE is transfixed.

She steps forward. The mother of carnival. Claudia Jones.

Beat.

Extends her hand just inches from my fingertips

Beat. NADINE is tugged into light.

Her voice glides out like silk from worms that are not of this earth.

She carries the voice of CLAUDIA JONES.

“It’s time to stop running.”

Pause.

“My journey was long… it took me from Trinidad… to the States… right here to this soil. Writing and thinking, fighting and speaking away the troubles of the world. But this… this started in a room, and became a roar… a roar that couldn’t be quietened, a place for our people beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined.”

Beat.

“I see a fight in you that you don’t know the power of.

A dance and joy that our people don’t even know they need.”

Beat.

“Step into your light and take what’s yours.”

Beat.

“Finish what we started. Keep the spirit alive…We’ll be near.”

Beat.

Shapes and stories float away like stars....

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Acknowledgements
• Half-Title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Characters
• Act One