©Ammar Almotaem
Articles, Volume 14

Up There by Wael Kadour, Introduction by Edward Ziter

Introduction to Up There by Wael Kadour

Some 6.6 million Syrians have fled Syria since 2011 according to the UNHCR, a diaspora that has included established theatre makers. Many of these artists have found institutional support in Europe, resulting in a powerful body of work that often probes ideas of national belonging and exile. The playwright Wael Kadour is prominent in this group of talented artists and in this issue of Arab Stages we are proud to offer his most recent play, Up There. The Collective Ma’louba premiered the play on 3 December 2022 at Theatre An der Ruhr in Mülheim Germany, where the group has been in residency since 2017. Ma’louba (Levantine for “upside down” and the name of a popular rice dish in the region) has a core of Syrian theatre artists and has produced seven plays.

Up There induces a radical sense of displacement. Kadour’s own experience of forced migration is powerfully evoked in a dramaturgy that undermines the boundaries between the real and the fictional and the past and the present. Kadour plays a fictionalized version of himself in the production, which he codirected with Mohamad Al Rashi. It recounts details of Kadour’s flight including actual images of his office after it was ransacked by the Syrian secret police. The play takes as its starting point a real event, the 1991 clandestine staging of Ibsen’s The Lady from the Sea by the female political prisoners of Syria’s Douma prison. Kadour then inserts himself into this history, imagining that he learned of the production when he lived in Syria, not thirty-two years later while living in exile. In this historical revision, Kadour learned of the 1991 production while creating a devised theatre piece with the Douma prisoners in 2008. In his invented personal history, he goes on to rehearse The Master Builder with one of the prisoners—and Ibsen’s story of castles in the air, death, and disappointment increasingly feels like a commentary on the Syrian revolution and the ensuing diaspora. Kadour further complicates this mix of the real and fictional when he introduces onto the stage two of the women who produced The Lady from the Sea in Douma, performed by the real-life former prisoners. He invites the two to record messages to the fictional prisoner with whom Kadour rehearsed The Master Builder in his fictional past. The result is a temporal hall of mirrors that manifests the loss and decentering that Kadour experiences in his exile.

Up There is not the first time Kadour has used a well-known play to evoke the Syrian experience. The Confession (Beirut, 2018) is set in the early days of the Uprising and depicts a Syrian theatre troupe that has been given permission to stage Death and the Maiden, Ariel Dorfman’s play about political torture and revenge. Life mirrors art; as in the source text, the storyline in The Confession turns on the difficulty of identifying war criminals and obtaining justice. Other productions include Chronicles of a City We Never Knew (Mulhouse, 2019) and The Small Rooms (Beirut and Amman, 2013). Kadour lives in Paris.


Edward Ziter teaches theatre history in the Department of Drama at New York University. He has written two books: The Orient on the Victorian Stage and Political Performance in Syria: From the Six Day War to the Syrian Uprising. He edits Arab Stages.

UNHCR. ‘Syria Emergency.’ https://www.unhcr.org/en-us/syria-emergency.html. Accessed 17 May 2023.


UP THERE

WAEL KADOUR

Translated by Wael Kadour with support from Rabab Al-Boutty, Hassan Abdulrazzak, and Eckhard Thiemann.

 

A play based on the testimonies of former detainees in Syria, and the two plays The Lady from the Sea and The Master Builder by Henrik Ibsen.

 

The play premiered on December 2022 at Theatre An der Ruhr in Germany.

Co-directed by Wael Kadour and Mohamad Al Rashi.

With: Hala Bdier, Wejdan Nassif, Hend Alkahwaji and Wael Kadour

Scenography: Jean-Christophe Lanquetin

Music and Sound Creation: Khaled Kurbeh

Light: Toni Mersch

Video: Guevara Namer

Translation (German): Sandra Hetzl 

Production Assistant: Wisam Atfeh

Producer: Wael Kh. Salem

Tour and international representation: Eckhard Thiemann

Co-productions: Ministerium für Kultur und Wissenschaft des Landes NRW, Ibsen scope, Ettijahat-Independent Culture, Culture Resource (Al-Mawred Al-Thaqafy), Collective Ma’louba.

 

A private space, possibly a workspace or office.

 

©Jean Christophe Lanquetin

 

Hend Kahwaji and Wejdan Nassif enter the venue with the audience and sit in the front row. Wael enters his space, sits behind his desk, and plays a video of a female prisoner speaking with him. The audience sees a projection of the video and hears the recorded voices of Wael and the Prisoner.

 

©Ammar Almotaem

 

Wael (recorded)

Why do you want to take part in the play?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I love theatre.

 

Wael (recorded)

But we’re not doing a play like the ones they show on TV.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I didn’t mean the plays on TV.

 

Wael (recorded)

What do you mean?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I want to do a play by Henrik Ibsen.

 

Wael (recorded)

By whom?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Ibsen. Don’t you know him?

 

Wael (recorded)

I know him. But I’m surprised that you do.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I’ve been to a play of his.

 

Wael (recorded)

Well done. You mean you attended a play of his at the National Theatre?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

No.

 

Wael (recorded)

Where then?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Here.

 

Wael (recorded)

Where here?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Here, in prison.

 

Wael (recorded)

When?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Ages ago. When I first got here.

 

Wael (recorded)

They brought a production to the prison?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

No, they didn’t.

 

Wael (recorded)

So who made the production?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Hind Kahwaji, Wejdan Nassif, Nahed Badawiya, Samira Alkhalil…

 

Wael (recorded)

Who are they?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

You don’t know them?

 

Wael (recorded)

No.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

They’re prisoners who used to be here.

 

Wael (recorded)

And they staged a play by Henrik Ibsen?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

The Lady from the Sea. Do you know it?

 

Wael (recorded)

No. But I know other plays by him.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I also know other plays by him.

 

Wael (recorded)

Strange. They didn’t tell me that they used to stage plays here.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Who didn’t?

 

Wael (recorded)

The prison authority.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

The authority didn’t know about it. And when they did, they banned the play the day before it was due to be performed. The warden came, started shouting and removing parts of the set.

 

Wael (recorded)

What happened?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

They were trying to convince him that it was just a play, just for entertainment, and there was nothing political about it, but he was stubborn like a mule. So many prisoners tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t change his mind. There were people banging on pots, and others who cried all night.

 

Wael (recorded)

And then?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

The prisoner who was supposed to destroy the set didn’t. She hid it. And the next day she brought it back to the dorm. They fixed it and performed the play without the warden knowing.

 

Wael (recorded)

This is a true story?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes. It happened when I first came to prison. In 1991, and I told you the names of the performers.

 

Wael (recorded)

I told you I don’t know them.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Communists.

 

Wael (recorded)

Were communists imprisoned here?

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes they were here. They were sent by State Security.

 

Wael stops the video. He addresses the audience.

 

Wael

The story is real. Indeed, a group of female communist prisoners prepared a production of Ibsen’s The Lady from the Sea and presented it inside the prison in 1991.

I only learned of the story since coming here. I mean since leaving Syria and coming to Europe. I first heard it from Hend Kahwaji and later from Wejdan Nassef. They are here tonight. They agreed to participate in this play.

The story they told me is beautiful, but it created a problem for me. The problem is, simply, I don’t know why I want to tell that story. Why do I want to tell it now, after everything that’s happened? The story happened while they were imprisoned inside the country in 1991, and today, after 32 years, we are trying to tell it again while we are imprisoned outside the country!

Why do I want to tell that story here? By the way, when I say the word “Here”, I honestly don’t know what I mean by it. Exile? A place where you are forced to live. Where everything feels temporary. Like a prison. A place that forces you to wait, wait to dream, wait to imagine.

And whatever you imagine… it’s an illusion.

The video you just saw is an imaginary version of me. It’s to explain how I learned about the story. We had a couple of ideas, but we decided to go with this one. In 2008 I went to a women’s prison in order to stage a play based on the personal stories of the inmates.

At that time, such a thing was possible. The country experienced a period of a general opening, and the authorities allowed it.

I knew that there were political prisoners, but I did not know that inside prisons they made theater. Women in Douma prison, and men in Saydnaya prison. I was the one who studied theater and the one who makes theater. I did not know.

Why didn’t I know? Because this topic was taboo. Anything related to the period of political repression in the eighties and nineties was forbidden to talk about.

But to be honest, this is only one half of the answer. The other half is that I didn’t even try to know. My relationship with all of my country’s artistic and political past was a loose one. I had a general idea of the past and I was satisfied with it.

I was busy with my own affairs. I was interested in working and writing plays, and my projects were advancing and being published. I didn’t bother with the past. I didn’t think about the generation before me. A generation that my experience was supposed to extend. I was an independent artist, independent even from his own past.

 

Wael turns to Wejdan and Hend and addresses them.

 

So, I would have needed a coincidence like that to get to know you.

If I had happened upon your story like that, I would have searched for you until I found you. I would introduce myself, and asked you to tell me what happened.

 

Wael walks over to Wejdan and Hend, who are sitting in the first row. He introduces them to the audience and asks them to enter his space.

 

I’m going to get you a cup of coffee. Here in a space I rented with some friends in Damascus.

Of course, I will tell you how I heard about you. How did I know the story? We will watch this video together.

 

Wael resumes the video

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

What’s the play you’d like to do with us?

 

Wael (recorded)

There is no play. I mean it won’t be based on a written text. I want to work on your stories.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Our stories?

Wael (recorded)

Yes, I mean what happened to you, why you were sent here, how your thoughts and feelings changed over time.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

And from our stories you’d make a play?

 

Wael (recorded)

Not exactly. I want to listen to your stories, work on them and get you to perform them before an audience.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes, but everyone here knows everyone else’s story! Why would they want to hear them again?

 

Wael (recorded)

The audience. Not you. The audience will come from outside the prison.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

So the prisoners will not see the play?

 

Wael (recorded)

They will see it. We’ll have a special day for the prisoners. And another day for the audience.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Mmm, I don’t know. This wasn’t what I was thinking of.

 

Wael (recorded)

We’ll find new things in your stories. Opinions and details you didn’t think about before. It’s like you’ll get to tell your story again after all these years from a fresh angle.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I get it but I don’t know if my story will work for you.

 

Wael (recorded)

There is no story that doesn’t have merit or richness.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I was accused of killing someone and was given 20 years. That’s my story.

 

Wael (recorded)

Why did you kill him?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I didn’t kill him, he died by himself.

 

Wael (recorded)

Why did they sentence you then?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Because I asked him to climb the tower.

 

Wael (recorded)

What tower?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

The tower from which he fell.

 

Wael (recorded)

Why did you ask him to do that?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

He promised to build me a castle.

 

Wael (recorded)

A castle!

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes. A castle in the air.

 

Wael (recorded)

Who was he? I mean who was he to you?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

No relation. I met him twice in my life. Once when I was young, he came to the village to open a church tower. And once when I visited him in his town the day he died.

 

Wael (recorded)

You mean, you didn’t know each other?!

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Mmmm, you can’t say that!

 

Wael (recorded)

What’s the story of the castle in the air he was going to build for you?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

He’s a builder. His job is to build.

 

Wael (recorded)

But why a castle in the air?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Because it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

 

Wael (recorded)

Why is that?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

It’s the only place people can live happily.

 

Wael (recorded)

What happened when he climbed the tower?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

He spoke to God. He told Him don’t judge me. From now on I will only build the most beautiful things in the world. We will build it together. Me and my princess whom I love. And when I get down from here, I’ll go to her, hold her by the waist and kiss her.

 

Wael (recorded)

He meant you?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes. Me.

 

Wael (recorded)

How do you know he said that?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

This is what we agreed on before he went up.

 

Wael (recorded)

And then?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

He lifted his cap and waved it towards me, then… he lost his balance and fell.

 

Wael (recorded)

Why did he lose his balance? Was there a strong wind? Did his foot slip?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

No. Most likely he got dizzy because he fears heights.

 

Wael (recorded)

Why did he go up then?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I told you why.

 

Wael (recorded)

You knew that he was afraid of heights?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes.

 

Wael (recorded)

And you let him go up?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I asked him to.

 

Wael (recorded)

Why?!

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I had to see the same person I had seen ten years earlier when I was a child. The person who climbed the church tower and talked to God and his words reached my ears like a song in the air.

 

Wael (recorded)

You let him die just so you could see the same thing you had seen when you were a child?

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

What’s the point of his life if he couldn’t be the person I knew?

 

Silence.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

What? You don’t want to work with me?

 

Silence.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

I’m not going to tell my story to an audience. I want to perform in a real play.

Wael (recorded)

It’s probably difficult to change the agreement with the prison authority. We agreed how we will work and according to that we got the permission. If I change my mind now, they will cancel the agreement and the whole project will be screwed!

The Prisoner (recorded)

Why do you have to tell the authority? We’ll do it in secret. We’ll prepare the scene and invite some prisoners when we will show it. No one from the authority will know.

Wael (recorded)

This story you told me, is it true?

The Prisoner (recorded)

Does it make a difference?

Wejdan and Hend address the audience.

Wejdan Nassif

The story that the prisoner told is the story of a character named Hilde Wangle. Wael adapted or rewrote it from a play by Henrik Ibsen. A character that Ibsen used in The Lady from the Sea, and used again after 4 years in another play The Master Builder.

We did not know that.

Maybe if we had known we would have told this to our audience in the prison, or maybe we would have done the latter play. They definitely would have liked it more.

We’re saying this because our audience did not like the end of The Lady from the Sea. They never liked that the main character chooses her husband over her ex-lover, the sailor.

The audience objected. Almost half of them were in prison because they had killed their husbands. So how do we present a play where the main character chooses her husband at the end?!

They rejected the ending and demanded that it be changed.

Of course, I can understand this, we used to live in a prison! Any prisoner would choose to escape from reality, even if she was going to go with a “stranger.” No one would choose reality. Here is my personal interpretation of their reaction.

At that time, we didn’t know that in The Master Builder, after ten years from their first meeting, Hilde would follow Halvard Solness and would “kill” him or cause his death.

Hend Kahwaji

The story begins when Hilde was 12 years old. The band was playing. The square was full of people. Hilde was standing with her classmates, wearing white and waving a colorful flag. The scene was astonishing. Solness, the master builder, was climbing up the scaffold to reach the highest point. He was carrying a huge wreath. He hung it up with his hands. They are below watching him and he was high above them. It’s impossible in such a situation not to ask yourself: what would happen if he fell? Imagine the great builder himself falling! Suddenly Hilde ran away from her classmates and shouted out his name loudly. Her voice was so loud that he could hear her. Impossible to forget this moment. Impossible to believe that someone could build something so high and could stand on top of it… on its highest point… as huge as life… steady and without any fear.

Then Solness sang. His song reached Hilde’s ear. Like the sound of strings in the air. The same day Solness visited Hilde’s house in the afternoon. Her father was the village doctor, you could say. Everyone knew him. He ordered a feast. When Solness came into the living room she was alone. They stayed together for two or three minutes. Solness asked about her name and let her sit on his lap. Hilde was wearing the same white dress. “You are very pretty”, he said “When you grow up, you’ll be my princess.” She asked him when she would be his princess. “Wait ten years. After ten years I’ll come and take you from here. I’ll come to you like a genie and steal you from here. I’ll carry you to a faraway place that’s beautiful.”

Solness promised Hilde to build her a kingdom. Hilde felt he was kidding, not talking seriously. As she was thinking that, he came closer and kissed her. He took her in his arms. He bent her head backward and kissed her several times.

Hilde tells him all this ten years later when she comes to his home. Solness denies it happened. He says she imagined it. Those who are reading the play don’t really know if this has happened, or if Hilde imagines it. She is upset by what he says, especially as he insists that it’s impossible that he would do “such a thing”; she doesn’t have anything to say. She stays silent. She was as silent as if she had turned to stone.

 

Wael plays a new video. In this video, Wael and the prisoner are secretly rehearsing one scene of The Master Builder in prison.

Wael (recorded)

What you’re saying resembles a dream. It’s making me feel something, believe me. I must have seen it happen. I mean I thought about it or imagined it. I wanted it to happen with all my heart. Strange! Why am I so scared? You know what? What you are saying is true, I think I did that!

The Prisoner (recorded)

Do you think or it happened for real?

Wael (recorded)

For real. I did that for real.

The Prisoner (recorded)

You confess.

 

Wael (recorded)

Yes. As you wish. I confess.

The Prisoner (recorded)

You came near and put your arm around my waist.

Wael (recorded)

Yes.

The Prisoner (recorded)

You bent my head back little by little.

Wael (recorded)

Yes.

The Prisoner (recorded)

And you kissed me.

Wael (recorded)

And kissed you.

The Prisoner (recorded)

Many times.

Wael (recorded)

Yes, a lot. You think I could forget such a thing!

The Prisoner (recorded)

Because you’ve done that before!

Wael (recorded)

What happened after that?

The Prisoner (recorded)

After what?

Wael (recorded)

Between us. What happened?

The Prisoner (recorded)

Nothing. Nothing more than that happened, as you know only too well. The guests arrived.

Wael (recorded)

True. The guests arrived. Strange that I forgot that too.

The Prisoner (recorded)

I don’t think you’ve forgotten anything. You’re embarrassed a little by what happened, that’s all. I’m certain no one could forget such a thing.

Wael (recorded)

You’re right.

The Prisoner (recorded)

Ten years passed and you didn’t come as you had promised.

Wael (recorded)

You mean as I said in jest.

The Prisoner (recorded)

That was your intention? To make fun of me.

Wael (recorded)

No, it was a joke. A small joke. You were a child and I was joking with you.

The Prisoner (recorded)

You really saw me as a child?

Wael (recorded)

You really believed I’d come back?

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes.

Wael (recorded)

That I’d go back to your house and take you away with me?

The Prisoner (recorded)

Like a genie.

Wael (recorded)

And make you a princess?

The Prisoner (recorded)

That was your promise.

Wael (recorded)

And grant you a kingdom?

The Prisoner (recorded)

Why not? It didn’t have to be a big kingdom… I mean…  an ordinary kingdom would have done.

Wael (recorded)

An ordinary kingdom but one at the end of the world.

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes. As you built the biggest tower in the world then surely you can build me a kingdom.

Wael (recorded)

I don’t understand you at all.

The Prisoner (recorded)

At all?

Wael (recorded)

I don’t know if you’re being serious or making fun.

The Prisoner (recorded)

I’m making fun of you?

Wael (recorded)

Not just of me but of yourself also. You know I’ve been married for a long time.

The Prisoner (recorded)

I found out. I found out you are married. Why are you asking?

Wael (recorded)

What brought you here?

The Prisoner (recorded)

I want my kingdom.

The video ends. Wael speaks to Hend and Wejdan.

Wael

Within this imaginary proposal, I agreed to work with the prisoner on scenes from The Master Builder. Secretly.

I will record the rehearsals and you will watch them with me here.

While I’m here, I can say the word “here” and I know what I’m talking about. But my problem with this “here” is that it no longer exists. The place is destroyed. The Mukhabarat (security services) raided the place in 2011. All that remains of it are a few pictures that our friend took after he entered the office a few weeks later. When he sent me these pictures, I had left the country and until today I have not returned.

Of course, I will tell the prisoner that I met you. She will be very happy.

I will also tell her that you are attending our secret rehearsals. You are our audience. Our secret audience.

She will ask me how you are, but I will not be able to answer.

So, the idea is that I’m going to ask you to record a message. A video. And at the next rehearsal, I will let her watch it.

Agreed?

Hend and Wejdan

Agreed.

Wael brings the camera and gets ready to shoot. Meanwhile, Wejdan starts talking.

©Ammar Almotaem

Wejdan Nassif

I like the idea that a prisoner attended our performance in 1991, and that she still remembers who we are and what we did. The idea is imaginary, I know, but for me it is believable. I want to believe this, and this is very important right now.

If we record a message, I will say that I remember her. To be honest, I do not remember her, but I mean, I will say this out of kindness. I can also say that she looks beautiful.

I would like to give her a few tips. That would be helpful for her. When we got out of prison, we really needed someone to support us, but no one cared. Everyone was afraid of us and asked us to keep quiet.

When we got out, problems that accumulated over time hit us in the face.

Honestly, if I tell her what happened to me during the first period after my release, she may choose to stay in prison.

Even women who have never been to prison can hardly resist the pressures and dictates of society. So, imagine what it’s like for a former prisoner, one accused of endangering the country?

After prison, I decided to leave my family and go down to Damascus. It wasn’t difficult to convince my parents that I wanted to resume my studies and stay away from the pressures of our small town. After five years in prison, I went back to university. I had no income and no housing. I can tell a lot about hunger, sluggishness, and sleeping in various places.

I did a thousand jobs. I had to quit them all. I worked as a secretary for a harassing doctor, I worked in a low-paid biscuit factory, a sewing factory, tutored rich kids, and when the parents found out that I was a former prisoner, I’d lose the job.

Racing, racing, exhaustion, work, depression, far from my family, whom I decided to leave, and far from my companions with whom I had been in prison. I no longer saw them. Each one started fighting her own life battle. Can you imagine that I longed for prison during the first years after my release?

No, I will not tell her all this.

I will be brief. Brief and honest at the same time.

I will tell her: “There are many battles waiting for you outside. You choose your battles according to the dreams you seek to achieve. You may not find anyone to help you. You may have days when you feel that everything is against you. Or you may get lucky and meet someone who helps you. It happens. It happened to me. Either way, you will need luck. Bon courage!”

I’m fine now. Not now, I mean in 2008, when this message was supposedly recorded. I work as a teacher, got married and had two daughters. I can say I’m fine.

(She speaks to Hend.) Life was good then, right? At least we used to meet more than now. Currently, although we both live in France, it is very difficult for us to meet. Each of us is stuck in her city. When Wael first told me about this play, I honestly didn’t know what he was going to write or what he was going to do. I agreed because I would be able to see you and spend time together. It’s good that we went to a third city and stuck it out together there for a month, in the theatre, with Wael and his problems.

I wanna add one more thing, but please Wael don’t get upset with me.

Wael

Why should I be upset?

Wejdan

Because I want to tell her that it is good that you did not agree to participate in Wael’s project about female prisoners and their personal stories and for an audience who comes from outside, watches and then leaves!

Wael

No problem. As you like.

Hend, ready?

Hend Alkahwaji

It is very difficult for me to summarize in a few minutes what happened. There are a lot of details… That’s why I’ll keep it brief.

“I’d been in prison for a long time. That’s why when I came out, it was very necessary to find myself and find balance. Once I left prison, I threw everything behind me. I threw away oppression, sadness, and opened my door to light and freedom.

The most important thing is that Wejdan and I got out together and left no one behind. This helped me a lot. We didn’t know when we could get out. At least you felons know the date of your release, but we political prisoners don’t know when we’ll be released.

Over time, I found balance. The political situation was bad. There was no political life like what was before imprisonment. I took up other artistic and cultural concerns. I became interested in the issue of rights of women. We used to meet with the girls (former prisoners) from time to time and talk about prison with each other.

Of course, the most important thing was that I achieved some of my dreams. I dreamt a lot in prison, and the most important dream I had was that I would move and live on my own, and this was not easy to achieve, especially since my family lived in Damascus and my mother was still alone, so there was no reason. But I was able to convince my family without disagreements, and this was the most important thing for me.

I did not have children. I had taken this decision before the arrest, but inside prison I became even more sure of it.

I’ve always believed that this society is not suitable for children. I love children a lot, and I know that if I became a mother, I would be a good one.

I don’t try to know if my decision was right or wrong. I don’t even blame anyone or anything. This is not the point. There are female prisoners who, after imprisonment, were able to bond and start a family. Other prisoners were depressed, disappeared, committed suicide. How do you know what is right and wrong? How would you be able to understand? Based on what? Each case is different. In my case, I was sure that I did not want to lose my mind, nor did I want to live in isolation, and at the same time I did not want to attach myself to anyone. I wanted to be free, even if this deprives me of many things.

I don’t know if I talked a lot or I still can talk. The format of this video message is incorrect. Very short. The best thing is to meet face to face. Your time for freedom is near. If you want to see us, tell Wael, and he knows how to find us.”

A new video starts. In this video, the prisoner and Wael sit next to each other. It looks like they were watching the previous two video messages from Wejdan and Hend.

©Jean Christophe Lanquetin

Wael (recorded)

What will you do when you leave?

The Prisoner (recorded)

I don’t know. Dad died. My sister is married and has a family. I don’t think I can be a part of their lives for long. Maybe I can stay with her for a little while but then I’ll have to leave. I have to live by myself and it would be better if I lived away from them. I don’t have a job. I’m almost 42 and I don’t know how to do anything. I don’t know how I will survive. I should be afraid when I think of all this, right?

Wael (recorded)

You’re still not scared!

The Prisoner (recorded)

No. What I just said is truly scary. But the only good thing is that I will be free outside. No one will have power over me. I could do what I want.

Wael (recorded)

Like what?

The Prisoner (recorded)

I could fall in love.

Wael (recorded)

This is one of the things I consider scary.

The Prisoner (recorded)

Seriously?

Wael (recorded)

I don’t know… but relationships are very difficult. Or maybe I’ve just had shitty luck.

The Prisoner (recorded)

I could have a relationship with you.

Wael (recorded)

Of course, we can be in a relationship.

The Prisoner (recorded)

Oh great.

Wael (recorded)

Good choice. I’m telling you. I am the right person for you. You won’t find anyone better than me. When you get out, I’ll be waiting for you at the gate on a white horse.

The Prisoner (recorded)

Ok. Cool. (pause) I think of you all the time.

Wael (recorded)

I know I’m irresistible, but there are limits.

The Prisoner (recorded)

This is what happened!

Wael (recorded)

Ok, just don’t forget that you are an actress. We’re doing this scene together, so you can’t think of anything like that with your scene partner!

The Prisoner (recorded)

Why?

Wael (recorded)

Because that’s how you make a mess of things!

The Prisoner (recorded)

Where’s the problem?

Wael (recorded)

Our work will be ruined!

The Prisoner (recorded)

Ruined.

Wael (recorded)

You are in prison, and surely your thoughts, feelings and any decision you make are affected by this fact. I would suggest you wait until your release.

The Prisoner (recorded)

You’re not telling me something I don’t know. You’re that scared? I told you I like you. Fine, pretend I said nothing.

Wael (recorded)

I was not scared.

The Prisoner (recorded)

Yes, you were.

Wael (recorded)

No… As you like. I was scared.

 

The Prisoner (recorded)

Really?

 

Wael (recorded)

To be honest, yes. I was a bit scared.

The Prisoner (recorded)

You want the truth? As soon as I leave this place, I want to be an actress!

Hend and Wejdan go to the back of the stage and start reconstructing the rock from The Lady from the Sea and coloring it. It’s like they’re going back to 1991.

Hend Alkahwaji

If we had done The Master Builder after The Lady from the Sea, it would have been better. I mean the décor, the acting, the text. We have experience. Certainly, there are things that will not change. for example. The rehearsals’ location will remain in the same dormitory. It was number 7.

The theater will be here in the square between the dormitories. Let’s build an office setting. A private workspace for Solness.

We will also use egg cartons and boxes. At the time of The Lady from the Sea, we were collecting egg cartons for about a month until we were able to build the rock. Remember that, Wejdan?

There will be an office table, A few chairs, and a drawing table. The most important thing is a window. The window from which Solness and Hilde will look towards the tower.

The timing of the rehearsals will be approximately fixed, during prison work hours. The rest of the prisoners will work instead of us, and they will give us the time we need to do the rehearsals. We will get support and encouragement from the prisoners, as usual.

This time, both the communists and the felons will stage the play together.

There will be casting. The new prisoner will play Hilde.

Also, women will play men’s roles. We will hide our hair, draw mustaches, and deepen our voice.

©Ammar Almotaem

This time we will make sure that the prison administration doesn’t find out, so they don’t try to prevent the show or ruin the decor, like what happened to The Lady from The Sea. The administration became aware of our secret theatrical activity and tightened its control over us. After The Lady from The Sea, my friend and I were summoned by an officer from the Military Investigation Branch. The officer said theatre was forbidden and told us to replace it with singing and dancing. Folk songs by Fahd Ballan or Samira Tewfiq. Just no theatre. Come here, he says, and sign this artistic agreement. We laughed so hard. Of course, we refused. We had refused to sign his political agreement; we’re not going to sign his artistic agreement!

Wejdan Nassif

Our dramaturg from The Lady from the Sea will work on the new play. The text is long and needs to be shortened. Some parts have to be rewritten. But, through her talent, she will be able to treat the text dramatically and simplify its structure.

The prisoner appears on the reconstructed rock.

©Ammar Almotaem

The prisoner / Hilde Wangel

I was falling from a great height when I fell and found myself at the house of Halvard Solness.

The master builder.

I arrived yesterday.

I slept upstairs in one of the children’s rooms.

Now I’m going down to the kitchen.

I see before me, Madame Solness. Her name is Aline.

Aline decided to go to market to get me clothes to replace the ones I was in.

She had to do this out of a sense of duty. Her words.

Halvard has a lot of books he hasn’t read.

He has an employee, a young architect who works for him.

No one should build except Halvard. He can’t keep teaching others all the time.

Halvard built a new house in front of his own.

Halvard and Aline will move there.

There will be a tower on top of the new house.

And inside the new house, there will be children’s rooms, but no children.

There aren’t any children because they died a long time ago.

I enjoy listening to Halvard talk.

In front of the new house, there was an old one.

It burned.

The old house burned and Aline had a fever.

It affected her milk.

She insisted on nursing them herself, because it was her duty she said.

The milk killed the two children.

Halvard could not understand how God could allow such a thing to happen.

He quit building churches. He chose to build houses.

Halvard Solness, master builder.

He was self-taught. The fire shaped him.

He bid happiness farewell forever and stayed building homes for people.

Other people.

This is the first time he’s building one for himself, and he’s spent time convincing Aline that when they move in, they’ll be happy.

Halvard Solness is a giant.

To his wife, who in the death of her children lost everything in life, he’s a sad giant.

To his wife, who lost her children because of spoiled milk after a fire that he was responsible for, he’s a sad giant.

Suddenly I saw someone. Someone I didn’t know whom I’d never seen before.

A young man. The same young man who worked for Halvard

“Praise my design in writing, please? I want my father to read it before he passes,” the young man said.

Halvard refused. The young man left.

It was the most horrible situation I’d ever been in.

Halvard had known that the fire could break out at any moment, but he stayed quiet.

He noticed a crack in the chimney and left it.

He was quiet.

He was quiet for a long time.

“Perhaps the crack in the chimney will be my big break, allowing me to be a builder.”

Halvard wanted the fire to happen, and after it did, it became clear that the broken chimney was unrelated. The fire had started somewhere else in the house, but the truth remained the same.

Halvard had wished for the fire. This trapped him in a lot of guilt. He managed to convince himself that some people can wish for something so badly that it becomes real, and that he was one of them.

Halvard has a weak conscience. A sick one. It cannot bear the weight of big things.

Could I say I was disappointed?

My conscience is strong. I left my father behind and decided not to return without my kingdom!

I’m probably a giant, too. A giant needing an external force to come and save it to help it achieve what it wants.

Demons. Good demons and bad demons.

If only everyone had a strong conscience. A good conscience that doesn’t torture. A conscience that helps you to do what you want. To do everything you possibly could.

Like a Viking.

Like a pirate that boards a ship and invades the lands of others.

Who pillage and kill and insult women, and mistreat them horribly.

Who then go home and eat and drink like children.

I feel I could spend my life with such a pirate, provided I loved him. Provided my heart chose him. And that’s something nobody can control: love.

I’m like a wild bird with claws that goes fearless into the hunt.

I asked Halvard to praise the employee’s work in writing and send that to his sick father.

He refused.

If you were a real giant, you’d fear nothing. If you were really so strong, you wouldn’t fear the new generation taking your place.

Don’t worry that the young man will grow and resign and then destroy you with his work as you once destroyed his father.

Don’t kill me. Don’t take the most beautiful thing in my life away from me.

Don’t deny me seeing you on a tall tower with a wreath in your hand again.

I waited ten years for you. I won’t leave here without my kingdom.

Wejdan Nassif

The dramaturge who worked with us in prison on The Lady from the Sea is still in Syria. I didn’t mention her name and, unfortunately, I can’t. After our release in the same year, she returned to her city, and until today I have not seen her. We are in constant contact, of course, but we haven’t met. She got married, gave birth, worked, and today her children are young, but she is simply forced to live there. Upon her request, I submitted an asylum request for her in France, but unfortunately it was refused. The French government saw that her life was not in danger in the city in which she lives.

When she learned about this project, she was very happy. I asked her if she still has the original script written in her handwriting. She assured me that she has it. She said, sure, it is between bags and cartons piled up above her in the shed, but it will be very difficult for her to get up and find it. She told me, I will have to unpack things that have been accumulating for more than 30 years, and this will be exhausting for me, physically and psychologically. But after a few days she sent me pictures of the script.

She also recorded a short voice message. We’re gonna listen to it at the end of the play.

The actress who plays the prisoner enters Wael’s office, traveling forward in time from 1991. The actress walks with crutches.

The Actress/The Prisoner

It will be evening time. You’ve been in your office for a long time, as usual.

You will hear a knock on the door. You will be surprised because you did not expect anyone.

When you open, it will be the prisoner.

Today she got out of prison. This is the first place she will come to. Your office.

After about an hour, you will be sitting down. Two empty coffee cups. You will remain silent for a long time.

“More coffee?” you ask.

Silence.

©Jean Christophe Lanquetin

Wael

More coffee?

The Prisoner

You want me to leave?

Wael

Not at all.

The Prisoner

I can go if I bother you.

Wael

Why are you talking like this?

The Prisoner

Why do you think I am here? Why do you think I got out of prison and came straight here?

Wael

I have no idea!

The Prisoner

I want my play.

Wael

What play?

The Prisoner

The one you promised me.

Wael

I promised you a play?

The Prisoner

We’re going to make The Master Builder, and I want to be Hilde.

Wael

Really?

The Prisoner

Forgot what happened in prison?

Wael

No, I didn’t forget, we started something and we couldn’t finish it.

 

The Prisoner

You said that I am a good actress.

Wael

You are a good actress, but do you really want to act?

The Prisoner

What do you think?

Wael

I’m sorry, but I honestly didn’t expect you to take the matter seriously.

The Prisoner

You were kidding me?

Wael

No, I was not joking, but…

The Prisoner

But you didn’t mean what you said.

Wael

You were in prison.

The Prisoner

And now I’m no longer in prison. What? I can only be an actress while in prison? This is what you think?

Silence.

The Prisoner

You never thought of me?

Wael

Yes. I thought of you.

The Prisoner

You imagined me?

Wael

Yes, I did.

The Prisoner

Many times.

Wael

Many times.

The Prisoner

But you don’t dare do anything with me because you are a professional. Ok, Mr. Professional. As soon as he finishes one project, he starts the next one. It’s time for our project.

Wael

Can I think about it?

The Prisoner

Think about what? You know that today is the day of my release, but you look like you forgot. You promised me, and I will not leave before I get my play.

The actress playing the prisoner addresses the audience.

The Actress Hala Bdeir

My name is Hala, and I am an actress.

I came from Jordan to study acting in Syria in 2010.

I arrived a year before the revolution.

The prisoner and I arrived in the city at the same time.

As soon as we got used to the city it started to change.

It was very important for her to live in a new place and to get used to it. For me too, that was important. For the first time in my life, I’m living on my own, and having to make choices.

©Ammar Almotaem

I would like to talk to her. Actress to actress.

If there is something I should advise you on during your journey to represent Hilde, it is that you try to find yourself inside Hilde. Just as I found myself inside you. The actual situation of my body is a prison. And this is something that brought me closer to you.

Surely, when you read the play, you will ask yourself: did Solness really kiss her, or did she make that up? You will need to answer this question as an actress.

I believe Hilde. Solness did it. He molested her.

But in any case, the question is still there: Why did Hilde really catch up with Solness after 10 years?

For me, I’ve fought my battles, and they’ve never been easy.

Tougher than I imagined. Fierce battles I’d say.

I fought every legacy I was raised on. I fought all persecution. I received violence. I reproduced it, and I was a part of it. I made choices. I fell in love. I was betrayed. I was betrayed. I sank in guilt and flew into ecstasy. I resisted the ghosts of the past. Illusions of the present. I fought hard. I gained a lot and lost a lot.

This war lasted for ten years, and I found myself in one of its fiercest battles on a bridge. A high one. I stood on it and beside me on both sides stood all the ghosts and monsters that haunted me.

I think I lost.

I will close my eyes and make a wish. One wish I will make with all my heart and I will bet on it with all my life. I hope to get rid of all illusions. That all disappeared.

I will close my eyes more forcefully. I will focus on this wish. I will imagine it so much that I see it.

I will see.

I see.

I see myself falling.

I was falling from a great height when I fell and found myself at the house of Halvard Solness.

My master builder.

Wejdan or Hend read the following scene as Mrs. Solness. The actress Hala as Hilde. The scene is the beginning of the third act of The Master Builder.

©Ammar Almotaem

Mrs. Solness

Have you been round the garden, Miss Wangel?

Hilde

Yes, I have been taking a look at it.

Mrs. Solness

And found some flowers too, I see.

Hilde

There are lots!

Mrs. Solness

Are there, really? Still? You see I scarcely ever go there.

Hilde

What! Don’t you take a run down into the garden every day, then?

Mrs. Solness

I don’t “run” anywhere, nowadays.

Hilde

Well, but do you not go down now and then to look at all the lovely things there?

Mrs. Solness

It has all become so strange to me. I am almost afraid to see it again.

Hilde

Your own garden!

Mrs. Solness

I don’t feel that it is mine any longer.

Hilde

What do you mean—?

Mrs. Solness

No, no, it is not, not as it was in my mother’s and father’s time. They have taken away so much, so much of the garden, Miss Wangel. Fancy, they have parceled it out and built houses for strangers, people that I don’t know. And they can sit and look in upon me from their windows.

Hilde

May I stay here with you a little?

Mrs. Solness

Yes, by all means, if you care to.

Hilde

Ah, here one can sit and sun oneself like a cat.

Mrs. Solness

It is nice of you to be willing to sit with me. I thought you wanted to go in to my husband.

Hilde

What should I want with him?

Mrs. Solness

To help him, I thought.

Hilde

No, thank you. And besides, he is not in. He is over there with his workmen. But he looked so fierce that I did not dare to talk to him.

Mrs. Solness

He is so kind and gentle in reality.

Hilde

Really!

Mrs. Solness

You do not really know him yet, Miss Wangel.

Hilde

Are you pleased at the thought of moving over to the new house?

Mrs. Solness

I ought to be pleased; for it is what Halvard wants—

Hilde

Oh, not just on that account, surely?

Mrs. Solness

Yes, yes, Miss Wangel; for it is only my duty to submit myself to him. But very often it is dreadfully difficult to force one’s mind to obedience.

Hilde

Yes, that must be difficult indeed.

Mrs. Solness

I can tell you it is—when one has so many faults as I have—

Hilde

When one has gone through so much trouble as you have—

Mrs. Solness

How do you know about that?

Hilde

Your husband told me.

Mrs. Solness

To me he very seldom mentions these things… Yes, I can tell you I have gone through more than enough trouble in my life, Miss Wangel.

Hilde

Poor Mrs. Solness. First of all, there was the fire—

Mrs. Solness

Yes, everything that was mine was burnt.

Hilde

And then came what was worse.

Mrs. Solness

Worse?

Hilde

The worst of all.

Mrs. Solness

What do you mean?

Hilde

You lost the two little boys.

Mrs. Solness

Oh, yes, the boys. But, you see, that was a thing apart. That was a dispensation of Providence; and in such things one can only bow in submission—yes, and be thankful, too.

Hilde

Then you are so?

Mrs. Solness

Not always, I am sorry to say. I know well enough that it is my duty—but all the same I cannot.

Hilde

No, no, I think that is only natural.

Mrs. Solness

And often and often I have to remind myself that it was a righteous punishment for me—

Hilde

Why?

Mrs. Solness

Because I had not fortitude enough in misfortune.

Hilde

But I don’t see that—

Mrs. Solness

Oh, no, no, Miss Wangel—do not talk to me any more about the two little boys. We ought to feel nothing but joy in thinking of them; for they are so happy—so happy now. No, it is the small losses in life that cut one to the heart–the loss of all that other people look upon as almost nothing.

Hilde

Dear Mrs. Solness—tell me what things you mean!

Mrs. Solness

As I say, only little things. All the old portraits were burnt on the walls. And all the old silk dresses were burnt, what had belonged to the family for generations and generations. And all mother’s and grandmother’s lace—that was burnt, too. And only think—the jewels, too! [Sadly.] And then all the dolls.

Hilde

The dolls?

Mrs. Solness

I had nine lovely dolls.

Hilde

And they were burnt too?

Mrs. Solness

All of them. Oh, it was hard—so hard for me.

Hilde

Had you stored all these dolls, then? Ever since you were little?

Mrs. Solness

I had not stored them. The dolls and I had gone on living together.

Hilde

After you were grown up?

Mrs. Solness

Yes, long after that.

Hilde

After you were married, too?

Mrs. Solness

Oh yes, indeed. So long as he did not see it—. But they were all burnt up, poor things. No one thought of saving them. Oh, it is so miserable to think of. You mustn’t laugh at me, Miss Wangel.

Hilde

I am not laughing in the least.

Mrs. Solness

For you see, in a certain sense, there was life in them, too. I carried them under my heart—like little unborn children.

They hug each other.

Wael

I will adapt the play. Most probably, I will keep the structure as it is.

I will transfer it from classical Arabic to colloquial dialect, for sure.

The set will be made of egg cartons… cartons and wires.

We will color the decor with regular crayons.

I will “copy” all that you made in The Lady from the Sea in prison.

There will be brown blankets all around.

The most important thing I will do is that I will get actresses to play male roles.

Of course, I will be able to find actresses whom I trust and tell them why I am doing this, and they will surely agree.

They will dye their long hair. They will lose their voice and we will draw mustaches.

And if, later, someone from the audience or from the press asks why we chose to do this, then we can invent any answer… It doesn’t matter!

Our little secret here is going to get bigger as more theater people are involved.

A small team of sound, lighting, production and acting. A small group united by trust.

I think this is doable. I mean to embark on an adventure in Damascus with people I trust.

None of the security or the management of the theater will know or suspect what we are doing.

Hend and Wejdan, you will attend rehearsals with us. Anyone else from the same group that was detained is also welcome.

You can attend as much as you can. As your time allows. You will give us your opinion in every detail.

And when we perform in front of an audience, you will be there. Sitting in the audience.

We will present the play for you.

By the end of the show, you will be applauding for us, but we will also be applauding for you.

We will be applauding the show you made a long time ago.

We will present the play in Damascus, and we will tour other cities and countries. You could invite us to present here. In this theater. We will be happy to accept the invitation. In this case, you would not have seen me on stage. I would have written the play I told you about earlier.

We have to think about the translation, and where it sits within the space. And we will be upset because the translation screen will take away your focus on the show itself, which we spent a great deal of effort creating.

Once we finish the show, we go back to our country. The place where we live and make theatre. In the same city where our troupe lives and works alongside other troupes whose work we see. We frequent the same places; we meet friends and colleagues often by chance and without much planning. We talk, argue then agree. We work together with some people or change the people we work with. Life goes on.

Hala

What you’re saying is beautiful, but it is nothing but illusions.

Illusions that you can’t get rid of.

You can’t or you don’t want to. I don’t know. But in any case, it is good that you turned it into a play.

It is good that you are still trying to figure out what the word “Here” means.

Stay here. Don’t head out. What do you need to prove? No need to head out, no need to turn in.
Believe me, I don’t need your play. I can live without it. I can live without you. Thank you for your good intentions. Thank you for working so hard to walk a very fine line. A fine line separates you from helping me and using me.

Stay as you are. Stay with your depression. Sometimes it is good to admit that you lost. This is courage in itself.

Hala, Wejdan, and Hend leave the stage. They sit in the first row. We see some pictures of Wael’s office after the raid by the security services in 2011.

©Jean Christophe Lanquetin

The audience listens to the voice message recorded by Wejdan and Hend’s friend from her city in Syria. She is the former prisoner who adapted The Lady from the Sea inside the prison in 1991.

We were in prison. It was a late summer day touched with the sparkles of the fall. The weather that day… like a shawl of dew on your exposed shoulders. A sea wind, even though the sea is just an image. The smell of thyme, even though your mother is far away.

I had finished reading The Lady from the Sea. And always—and this is not only in prison—beauty is the companion of sadness, joy is the companion of sadness, and art is the companion of sadness.

Therefore, I turned to Nahed and said to her with sadness: How I long to see a theater, curtains, seats, audience, applause.

I don’t know what we talked about after that and how several girls gathered around us to discuss the theater. The idea came to us from longing and lovely chatter: we would stage a play. And from that moment, I entered a new world where I layered Latakia’s sea on top of Ibsen’s sea. I wanted to mold from this clay the beaches, the boats, the hills, and the roses that we missed. To find the spirit that carries me, that carries us all, to life—that carries the scent of freedom.

I played with the dialogue. I imagined the characters meeting according to my whims, and this substituted for my dreams. I often wrote at night by the light of a faint blue lamp. I confined its light with a cardboard funnel, inches from my notebook, lying on my stomach and trying to make as little noise as possible. In the morning, I consulted with Nahed and the girls about what I had written. As soon as we were satisfied, we hurried to gather the cast in cell number seven. It was a fantastic experience that took me outside the prison walls to sleep and wake on that beach, and sit on its rock, instead of Hilde. I picked its flowers with Hilde’s hand. I got wet with the sea spray. I shivered, sometimes in fear and sometimes in love. So, when the administration wrecked our set, we were overwhelmed, especially Wejdan who had worked so hard on it. I sobbed, and so did my friends. They stole our freedom a second time. I felt like I had been arrested a second time, but it was harsher and more bitter.

We shoved our sorrows aside. We overcame the shock and decided to repair the damaged set and perform the play no matter what.

Thus, we, the female detainees of the Communist Action Party in Syria, succeeded in presenting the first complete play with its set, scenes, and music.

By doing this, we created a precedent in the women’s prison; perhaps it will be a shining guide against the darkness until the dream of a free people in a world of light is realized.

We see a group photo of the prisoners in Douma prison in 1991.


Wael Kadour is a playwright, director, and cultural activist from Damascus, Syria. He serves as dramaturg for the Collective Ma’louba of the Theatre An der Ruhr in Mülheim Germany. Kadour is a graduate of the Damascus Higher Institute of Dramatic Arts and cofounder of Ettijahat-Independent Culture, which works to promote independent culture across the Arab World. He is currently in exile in Paris. 


Arab Stages
Volume 14 (Spring 2023)
©2023 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Publications

Founding Editor: Marvin Carlson

Founders: Marvin Carlson and Frank Hentschker

Editor: Edward Ziter

Performance Reviews Editor: Katherine Hennessey

Book Reviews Editor: George Potter

Editorial and Advisory Board: Fawzia Afzal-Khan, Dina Amin, Khalid Amine, Dalia Basiouny, Katherine Donovan, Masud Hamdan, Sameh Hanna, Rolf C. Hemke, Areeg Ibrahim, Jamil Khoury, Dominika Laster, Margaret Litvin, Rebekah Maggor, Safi Mahfouz, Robert Myers, Michael Malek Naijar, Hala Nassar, Juan Recondo, Nada Saab, Asaad Al-Saleh, Torange Yeghiazarian.

Managing Editors: Melissa Flower Gladney and Juhyun Woo

Table of Contents:

“Indigenous Avant-Gardes”: The Shiraz Arts Festival and Ritual Performance Theory in 1970s Iran by Matthew Randle-Bent

Up There by Wael Kadour, Introduction by Edward Ziter

Baba written by Denmo Ibrahim, directed by Hamid Dehghani, reviewed by Suzi Elnaggar

Decolonizing Sarah: A Hurricane Play written and directed by Samer Al-Saber, reviewed by George Potter

Layalina written by Martin Yousif Zebari, directed by Sivan Battat, reviewed by Sami Ismat

Mother Courage adapted and directed by Alison Shan Price, reviewed by Hassan Hajiyah

Playwright Showcase, New Arab American Theater Works, reviewed by Katherine Hennessey

Review of MUKHRIJĀT AL-MASRAḤ AL-MIṢRĪ (1990-2010): DIRĀSA SĪMIYŪṬĪQĪYAH [Female Egyptian Directors (1990-2010): A Semiotic Study], written by Hadia Abd El-Fattah, reviewed by Areeg Ibrahim

Review of Theaters of Citizenship: Aesthetics and Politics of Avant-Garde Performance in Egypt written by Sonali Pahwa, reviewed by Suzi Elnaggar

Review of Syrian Refugees, Applied Theater, Workshop Facilitation, and Stories: While They Were Waiting written by Fadi Skeiker, reviewed by Sonja Arsham Kuftinec

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