A Taliban Idyll
by Fred Thornett
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Act One, Scene One
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Imagine the following. You are looking at the door of a crude mud hut in which an impoverished Afghan peasant and his wives dwell somewhere in the Caves District of Afghanistan in the week after the fall of the last Taliban stronghold.
Enter left, skinny bearded chap with smirk, turban and beard who declaims in Arabic:
“Excuse me, Impoverished Afghan Peasant victim of American Imperialism, I am the famous Muslim fundament hero, Osama bin Liner. Can my illustrious friends and I sleep in your barn for the night to hide from the evil agents of the Great Satan? We will pay you ten thousand of these lovely muslim-green Taliban banknotes for your help.”
Reply in broken Arabic by suddenly smiling Impoverished Afghan Peasant,
“Certainly oh great one. Such an honour! You are most welcome indeed, good sirs! And I will send you my favourite goat to help your excellencies pass the night in comfort!! Will your honours partake of some humble, peasant-type refreshments before you sleep?”
Ushers honoured guests with many flourishes off stage to barn.
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Act One, Scene Two.
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Impoverished Afghan Peasant in sotto voce‚ to first woman in burqa.
“Get thee hence, Wife Number One, to the public phone box which is conveniently located only 15 kilometres down the road. Dial the number on this reward leaflet that by the grace of Allah fell from the sky. Remember to ask for the man with the $US 5 million reward money!”
Then speaking to next woman in burqa.
“Wife Number Two, carry in our finest food and drink to our honoured guests.”
First woman in burqa, clutching reward handbill, exits stage left.
Second woman in burqa, carrying stew pot and jug, exits stage right.
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Final Act
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Impoverished Afghan Peasant speaking in broken Arabic as he enters barn.
“And is your excellency’s aged mutton curry to your liking? Would any of the noble gentlemen like fancy another jam jar of yak ghee? Perhaps you would like to sleep late in the morning. Do not worry, good sirs, I shall stand at the entrance and keep a close watch for the agents of the Great Satan. All will be well. You can trust me, for I am true follower of the great Mullah Omar. Er, that is the five million dollar Mullah himself currently over there in the corner using the goat, is it not? And is not the other noble Koranic scholar the Second in Command of El Qaeda, the honourable Egyptian, Wadi el Plug?”
Grunts of affirmation from the honoured guests and the goat.
Impoverished Afghan Peasant grins.
“Allah Akhbar indeed.”
Impoverished Afghan Peasant departs left to stand outside barn door rubbing his hands and prancing with mounting glee for five hours until the thwack, thwack, thwack of the approaching helicopters gradually becomes louder and the lights fade to the sound of Osama bin Liner screeching in Arabic over the sounds of machine gun fire.
“I told you we should not have trusted anyone who kept comparing our faces with the satanic images on the poster he had pinned on his mantelpiece!”
