Staging the Amistad. Charlie Haffner

. . . (To the invisible spirits.) Welcome, you assembled fathers from beyond the seas . . . we welcome you . . . (Suddenly, he runs out.)

      CHIEF PRIEST: (Pouring libation, offering red rice, and throwing kola nuts as a means of communication.) Here, great fathers from beyond—we have called you here. Things are very difficult for us. We do not know. So, we ask. Speak to us . . . speak . . . speak . . . speak . . .

      HERALD: (Runs from behind the grave, dressed like a ghost. He jingles a hand bell and spins on the ground.) Hiii . . . bbrr . . . bbrr . . . hiii . . . news . . . news . . . he comes . . . hot news . . . news from the dead . . . news from the ancestors, long forgotten . . . (Fixes to a spot, listens, no clue, shakes his head, fixes to another spot, listens again, no sign, then suddenly.) He comes . . . he is here . . . he comes . . .

      Then, a Ghost, weeping and wailing, gives indication of his arrival.

      CHIEF PRIEST: (Fixing himself on the spot, half possessed, looking up at the ghost.) Ahh . . . welcome . . . you are welcome . . . Sengbe Pieh . . . welcome . . . it’s a long time we have not heard from you. Sengbe, welcome. You must be thirsty. Here is some water. Drink.

      GHOST: (Emphatically.) No!!

      CHIEF PRIEST: Sengbe, are you not thirsty? Drink.

      GHOST: Ahn . . . ahn . . . I cannot drink.

      CHIEF PRIEST: Pardon your children, Sengbe. Forgive us. You are our guiding spirit of the unknown—prompt to punish us whenever we transgress. I am Gbanagbome, son of Kai Koni Sokogbana of Kpa Mende. Please do not refuse our call. Here, Sengbe, take our good morning.

      GHOST: Good morning. How are you and our people?

      CHIEF PRIEST: So and so, Sengbe. How do you and your associates fare, over there.

      GHOST: We are alive and well. They send you their regards.

      CHIEF PRIEST: Sengbe, the living gathered here want to hear from you. You were a member of this community when you were captured and sold to slavery. Do you remember?

      GHOST: Of course, I remember everything. I remember very well.

      CHIEF PRIEST: Tell us, Sengbe, what happened. Stories have come and stories have gone, yet we do not know who to trust. Our children want to know and we cannot tell them. Help us, Sengbe. Let us right our wrongs, once and for all. Our cocoyam is white. We can no longer cover it. If I had known, always comes last. The cockroach does not go to market but it eats palm oil. Before it burns, let it soak more and more . . .

      GHOST: Okay. Thank you. Thank you very much. You remind me of the Poro, once more. I will tell you. I will tell you, but let me hear the drums once again!! (At one call by the Herald, all drums flare to a crescendo. The Ghost joins in the dance of frenzy. Then the music stops abruptly and the Ghost can he heard gasping as he begins to speak.) Listen to my story. (Pause.) It was in my village of Romendi, in the middle of the dry season, 26 harmattans after I was born. I later came to learn from the white man that it was January, 1839. I was on my way to farm, early one morning, when I was ambushed by men, sent to capture me. But wait, let’s see, I have an idea.

      CHIEF PRIEST: What’s the matter again, Sengbe?

      GHOST: I have an idea. We can act out my story. Yes. Let us act out my story as if it were a play. We can help the student to start writing his play. For example, I need four men to lay an ambush for me and then eventually capture me after a hard fight—tie me up and drag me away. Who would want to be the men to capture me?

      VOICE 1: Me . . .

      GHOST: Yes.

      VOICE 2: Me.

      VOICE 3: I will try.

      GHOST: What about you?

      VOICE 4: Okay, let me try.

      GHOST: Good. So you four know what to do . . . now, imagine it is in my village, on the way to my farm, early morning. Okay? Here is the village. You lay your ambush. I fall into it. We fight. You capture and tie me up and drag me way. Okay?

      OTHERS: Yes. Okay.

      GHOST: Now, what was I wearing? My shokoto. Okay? My ronko hat.³ Yes. I was also hanging a goatskin bag, carrying a hoe and a cutlass. Yes. Now, let’s go. I will begin . . .

      Flashback on scene of capture. Four men ambush Sengbe—a big fight. Sengbe tougher than expected. The attackers resort to the use of ropes, sticks, and machetes before Sengbe is overpowered. His right hand is tied to his neck and he is heavily guarded as he is led away.

      SENGBE: You see. If we act out my story, it will be better than if I tell it alone. So, we are going to need the people for my story.

      VOICE 2: What type of people?

      SENGBE: Those like me, who were the slaves.

      VOICE 1: How many?

      SENGBE: Fifty-three.

      VOICE 3: Fifty-three? We cannot have fifty-three slaves to act. We have to adjust.

      SENGBE: Yes. We have to adjust. I know. Just eight or ten slaves will do. There are also three girls between nine and eleven years and a boy, Kale—twelve years old. Kale is important, so let’s have Kale.

      VOICE 2: We can also have one girl instead of three.

      SENGBE: Yes. Let’s have Kagne. Kagne is the important one. Who will be Kagne? (Girls put their hands up.) Let it be you. (Indicating one.) You will be one of the female dancers. We are going to have male and female dancers. Also, we need Spanish actors. Ruiz—Pedro we need the Captain of the ship—the cook, Celestino—cabin boy, Antonio. We also need white Americans for the committee. There were also many lawyers.

      VOICE 3: Then we need many people. So, we still have to adjust.

      VOICE 2: But we have no white men here. Who will play the white parts? Nobody speaks like an American here, or like the Spanish.

      VOICE 1: Yes, the white roles—nobody to play them. And their costumes, what were they like? We don’t have them.

      SENGBE: Okay, you are right. Don’t worry. Come with me. Let us go prepare. I have my dead American friends with whom I have been hanging out. I will ask them to come and play the white roles. Let us not waste any more time. Let’s go and prepare.

      They break into a dance. Blackout.

      SCENE THREE

      A typical slave baracoon. Havana, Cuba—late June, 1839. An oblong enclosure without a roof. Slaves continue to enter. Men, women, and children come stumbling in, bumping into one another, chained and bound. Some are in pain, some angry, some drugged, others dumbed. Slave Guards supervise with whips and threats. Other slave Guards bring food—boiled rice, cassava, plantains, and palm oil. Other Guards use raw palm oil to anoint slaves’ cracked skins. Then, Sengbe Pieh comes stumbling in, chained to an older man. Sengbe appears inwardly cool. He takes time to study each and what goes on around. He refuses food and water, when served. Suddenly, laughter is heard off stage. Enter Senor Reira, the baracoon owner and wealthy slave merchant, and Jose Ruiz, a young Cuban dandy who comes bartering for slaves. Ruiz is a seasoned businessman who knows his trade. Accompanying Ruiz is Antonio, a black Cuban ladino⁴—carrying his briefcase.

      REIRA: (In heavy Cuban tongue.) . . . Eh . . . Senor Jose Ruiz.

      RUIZ: Call me Pepe. That is the name everybody calls me . . . eh . . . (Introducing Antonio.) This is Antonio. He is the cabin boy of . . .

      REIRA: Captain Ramon Ferrer—owner and captain of La Amistad.

      RUIZ: (Shocked.) Do you know Captain Ramon Ferrer?

      REIRA: Which slave dealer on this island does not know Captain Ramon Ferrer, his cabin boy, Antonio, and his mulatto cook, Celestino? (Giggles.) . . . Eh . . . Pepe, do you say that you are seeking slaves to add