I Like Stories

I didn't go to Latakia. As a former Catholic, I'm working on not being controled through guilt, and one step on this long road was to call the family and lie. Lie about being busy. White lie, as I am busy, busy with culture.

As part of the Damascus: Arab Capital of Culture 2008, there is a week-long theatre festival. Every night a different play (foreign plays translated into Arabic) at the Hamra Theatre for free. I missed the first two nights, but caught the third. After settling into the theatre, the play began and it seemed very familiar to me. Then I remembered that I read a roommate's lent copy of this play (in the original English) back freshman year of college. It was Death and the Maiden by Ariel Dorfman, about a woman confronting her toturer years after the regime under which she was tortured has changed to democracy. It's an awesome play and the actors, particularly the woman playing Paulina, were good. For some of my friends it was their first time at a play, ever, and a good introduction. For me, it was awesome since I understood a great deal (no doubt aided by hazy memories of reading it).

So we went the next night, to Women of Lorca, which isn't the real name of the play, but that's what was in the program. I still don't know what the fuck this is. I think the play would have been easier to understand had there have been a coherent story. I would understand the monologue of a character about how she is free to use her body as she likes, and then be completely lost as she writhed around on the stage, a woman in red came out and danced around, and the actresses started chanting "Open the doors! Open the windows!" Huh? I don't understand experimental theatre in English - add Arabic and I'm done for.

Going tonight again, in sha' Allah there will be a story.