Political Drama
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Copyright of the author roseleenwalsh.org POLITICAL DRAMA BY WEST BELFAST PLAYWRIGHT ROSELEEN WALSH Twenty three political dramas ranging from the 1916 leaders to the cease- fire of 1994 Foreword Roseleen Walsh is one of the finest writers writing for theatre in the English language to day. These plays are not only a joy to read but also to act. I know because I acted in a number of them. In these twenty three political plays she knows what she is writing about having served time in Armagh Jail for her political beliefs. I was in the audience one night recently at a production of “My Son Parraigh” which was on in conjunction with a lecture on P.H. Pearse, when an announcement was made asking us if we minded if the play started 20 minutes late as some people had to come from the Waterfront Hall and they had rang to say they would be late. Nobody seemed to mind and about six or seven arrived in due course. It turned out that they were Loyalists who had been attending a Unionist function at the Waterfront which had overran slightly. Not only did they enjoy the production which was rapturously received by the packed house, they asked Roseleen would she write a play for them to go with a lecture on Lord Carson. I was standing beside her as she said yes. How times have changed. That play is not included here. Most of the plays here have been performed but Screw has not. This is an outstanding full length play which is a look at the other side of the political divide and certainly deserves a production. Whether they are performed by professional actors, semi- pros, amateurs or beginners the productions I have seen always worked and were able to engage and transform us. This is it seems to me, because of the relevance of their subject matter, the ideas expressed and the eloquent simplicity of language, which is the hall mark of great theatre. It amazes me that the recent movement for national liberation, did not throw up a theatre of the people, a political theatre. This of course is a repeat of Copyright of the author roseleenwalsh.org what had happened theatrically in Dublin in the early part of the last century, and by the time play killers like Blythe arrived on the scene there was no hope for real theatre. Jack Moylett Dublin December 2011. To Martin: my husband, friend and comrade INTRODUCTION When the cease-fire was announced (it had been anticipated so was no surprise) it felt strange hearing the I.R.A. statement and trying to take in the enormity of what it meant to me as an individual; it left me feeling numb. I was 19 years old when the troubles were given an official date for beginning; August ’69, but the reality was that, minus the volume of violence, the troubles had begun 800 years previously when our next door neighbour’s greed for what other countries had could not be contained and the Irish race suffered inhuman treatment from that country since. Though we had always fought back, the physical force of the British outfought ours but the strength of our spirit as a nation, a freedom loving people could never be outdone by any amount of British force and brutality! A quote from James Connolly springs to mind ‘the great only appear great because we are on our knees’. Gradually we, the people from the 6 counties of Northern Ireland, began to get ourselves up off our knees and the rest, as they say, is history! The horror of our revolution was the death and destruction it brought. Unfortunately, revolutions are caused, they are not the creation of the bored or unemployed as the propagandist would put forth as a reason for any uprising. So pre-revolution in these six counties was not a good place to be for anyone from the Catholic religion or and who was also a nationalist. Discrimination was so blatant that, most of the time, your name and/or school dictated your job prospects. In the following thirteen dramas I have tried to say something meaningful about being ‘ordinary’ and have tried to articulate the things that have affected my life. All these things have had such an effect on my life that I feel compelled and driven to share them. Copyright of the author roseleenwalsh.org INDEX Title……………………………………………………… Cease-fire………………………………………………… prelude to ’81……………………………………………. Screw ……………………………………………………. The ‘D’ Company Legacy……………………………….. DEATH OF AN IRA VOLUNTEER……………………. Conspiracy is Only a phone Call Away………………….. CONNOLLY……………………………………………… My Son Padraig…………………………………………… LIAM……………………………………………………… MARKIEVICZ……………………………………………. Twenty Two Good Men…………………………………… ULSTER BLOOD ON SPANISH FIELDS……………….. TOM………………………………………………………………………….. The first drama ‘CEASE-FIRE’ was written in 1994 just after the cease-fire was announced by the I.R.A. The first three monologues in this drama are factually based while the other two acts may not be all that far-fetched. Enjoy. Roseleen CEASE-FIRE The cease fire has just been announced by the I.R.A. 31st August 1994. Three females are sitting on a settee to side of stage. The first to speak is around 40 years old, very pretty with black shoulder length hair. The scene begins in darkness; each female in turn moves across to single chair at centre of stage; then very slowly the light comes on as a guitar is played and a voice sings: Plaisir d’ Amour (by Tedesco), the song made popular by Joan Baez during the 60’s folk scene. Plai sir d’ amour Ne du re qu’un mo ment Cha grin d’ amour du re Tan te la vie. Copyright of the author roseleenwalsh.org She begins: And now he’s gone, 18 years. SEAN was skinny, tall, dark, scruffy and beautiful. I felt I knew the soul of the man, I recognised the quiet beauty that lay there within that soul waiting to be discovered. He was shy and easily embarrassed, not the type of person anyone would expect to find in the ranks of the I.R.A but life is strange like that (pause) isn’t it? Really (pause) when you start to think about it. I suppose it would be like Catholics from West Belfast being omniscient for a day and seeing into the heart and home of the Reverend IAN and seeing that he is really a good and loving husband and father. Few people really know people who have an image or reputation in life, (pause) well I believe that anyway. I remember the first time I saw SEAN, it was like the song says, “your eyes kissed mine, I saw the love in them shine, you brought me heaven right then, (slight pause) when”…… it was love at first sight, he told me later. But I wasn’t ‘in love’ with SEAN oh yeah (pause) I did love him I loved everything about him but I wasn’t ‘in love’. I loved his mind – his spirit – I think very one who knew him loved that intellectual brain of his, we mightn’t have always understood what was in it at times – but we knew enough to know we loved it – (deep sights)…………. I only ever saw SEAN dressed up once – it was on a Thursday night……. all the do’s in the Brair were always on a Thursday night…. 1974 I think it was – the do was for the prisoners’ welfare – for a mini-bus… how the families travelled in some of those old mini-buses I don’t know; it was bad enough going in one once……. that was the week before he was released from internment that was how we met. MALACHY had shown him my photo and the next thing was he sent me a visit. I’d already heard a lot about SEAN from MAL’S letters. MAL loved him; they were like father and son. Anyway (pause) that Thursday night SEAN borrowed his brother’s beige jacket (she laughs) it had those big massive lapels – no – now maybe it was brown – no – that’s right it was beige, his shirt was brown – he looked really handsome – he was relaxed that night – I wore my midi – it was green with white flowers – (sighs) I wouldn’t dream of wearing green now – it was the summer – I didn’t wear a jacket. If there had been no troubles here – oh God – (sighs deeply) SEAN wanted to be a journalist – he would never have made it (slight laugh) he was too honest – too (sighs) always on the side of the underdog – those violated by politically motivated forces – paid for by Copyright of the author roseleenwalsh.org governments – no paper would have hired him – though I don’t think he would have seen that as a real obstacle (laughs) no, that would have reinforced his belief that there was no such thing as the free press – he would have started his own newspaper (she smiles) I can see him now – jeans – army jacket (lifts her head and shakes her hair) long hair (pause she looks very sad) That picture in the paper – on one had ever seen that before – we all thought it was in the morgue – there was no other explanation – his eyes were closed – those beautiful eyes (thoughtfully) you know – I often wonder about when he died – when he was shot – I knew he was an atheist and I know he didn’t die right away, – I was told he lay dying for about an hour or so (she lowers her head and puts her hand to her face wiping away a tear) I wonder – I don’t think he had anyone to comfort him – he may even have been abused as he lay bleeding (she sobs) I often wonder – I wonder – did he call out to God – did he? Was there a compassionate – merciful God there with him in that pool of spirit filled blood, (holds her hands as in prayer) did he feel the need to ask for forgiveness? Or didn’t it matter! Even CHRIST cried out as he bled to death, “father why have you forsaken me” perhaps the sound of MARY’S sobs gave some comfort to CHRIST– perhaps someone cried for SEAN…….