Scene 2

                                                                                        Yacht deck. The young couple
                                                                                                                  are sunning in the deck chairs.



ANNEAL

               I heard a boy died in the village. He wanted some girl and I guess she spurned him and he committed suicide.
               They tell me it happens quite often. He hung himself with his belt by a tree branch. He just sat down and choked                himself to death.


STERLING

                        I got a telegram from the folks.


ANNEAL

                       You did? Here?When?


STERLING

                       While you were gone. A guy from the communications shack brought it.


ANNEAL

                             Amazing They actually brought it to you.


STERLING

                             Yes. The folks say they miss us and send their love, lots and lots of love.


ANNEAL

                                That's sweet. That's sweet, isn't it?


STERLING

                                Yeah.


                                                                                                       (The boat yaws. Sound of wood, taut rope. Native
                                                                                                         music low in the background, rises, and lows again.)


ANNEAL

                                                               What I can't stand about them is their eyes.


STERLING

                                                What?

ANNEAL

                              When I go ashore, into the village. The men, the people - the thing I can't stand about them
                               is their eyes. They just stare. Stupid, staring eyes.





                                                                                    Scene 3


                                                                                                     RIKLON' s family compound in the banana grove.
                                                                                                    A few bamboos and fronds suggest the sinple hut.
                                                                                                    RIKLON's MOTHER, huge, reclining on a
                                                                                                    mountainous hip on a mat.
                                                                                                    RIKLON steps out into the grove.



                                                                       RIKLON

                                              In this banana grove the wind blows white
                                              and the sand is warm under my feet,
                                              warm like my mother's stomach
                                              when I was inside.
                                              The banana leaves wave
                                              and they paint my big eyes bright green
                                              between the blue of the sky.
                                              My chest aches without knowing why
                                              for something.
                                              My stomach tightens when I see
                                              the foreigners'  boats in our lagoon
                                              I do not know why.
                                              My words are like the cool shadows
                                              in this grove.
                                              Among the soft bodies of the banana trees
                                              where the long wind twists the blossoms
                                              and the sand sparkles.
                                              My mother is now asleep.
                                              I see the curve of her jelly hip,  her breasts
                                              like waves on the mat.
                                              Her hair mingles with the frangipani.
                                              I want to ask her a question that is hidden inside of me
                                              that makes my breathing heavy like smoke
                                              and my arms are uneasy.
                                              The questions sinks inside of me.
                                              In this grove nothing heavy can rise.
                                              This grove is where I was born.


                                                                        (Banana leaves, waving, stop, RIKLON freezes
                                                                          as Scene 4 starts.)


                                                                                                  go to Scene 4


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