Q: Which story is
real?
- The first story
- The second
story - The third story
- None of the
above - All of the
above
Characters: man, witches, loving woman, children, young boy, neighbor, villagers,
police
Setting: Small African village with several mud huts and
dirt roads. Many children playing and women outside washing clothes. The sun is out and the mood is joyful.
Act
I
Narrator – Once there was a man that lived a few
hours south from where I lived in Seta, Uganda.
(Enter man)
Narrator – He lived in a small village, with lots of
children that played. Many of these kids
visited the house of a loving woman.
(Enter loving woman and children)
Narrator – They visited because she gave them
something to eat. But the man walked around
town talking to himself, and many villagers thought he was crazy. He began to spend time with witches that
lived around town. The witches told him
a sacrifice should be made.
(Audience laugh
track)
Narrator – He walked to the women’s house. Nobody was home but one 12-year-old boy.
(Enter
12-year-old African child)
Narrator – The man cut the boys head off with the
machete he had brought. The witches
needed the head. He put it in a paper
bag. A neighbor saw him in the house and
the bag in his arms.
(Enter neighbor)
Narrator – The neighbor thought the man was
stealing. He tried to grab the bag. The 12-year-old boys head rolled out.
Neighbor – Murderer, Murderer!
Narrator – The man ran out of the house. He went to the police station and
confessed. He knew the police were his
only chance to save him from the village.
(Enter police)
Narrator – The village came to the police station at
night.
(Enter village
people)
Narrator – They wanted the man. The police shot their guns in the air to
scare the village away. They accidently
shot and killed two villagers.
Village people – Murderer, Murderer!
Narrator – The police ran away from the
station. The village pulled the man out
of the jail and brought him outside.
(Cue audience
laugh track, Exit police)
Narrator – The man begged for his life on his
knees. But a man from the village hit him
on the top of his head with an ax.
(Audience
applause)
(Credits)
Characters:
men and women that live, eat, breathe and work garbage, dead babies, two
sisters
Setting: Peruvian mountains of trash that
go on forever, the constant flow of dump trucks that are never empty, and a
thick cloud of toxic smoke pollutes the air
Act II
Narrator – Recently, they stopped letting children
work here. The dump trucks pull in and
competition ensues. Peruvians wielding
long, wooden sticks with hooks search for treasure. They don’t get paid for the dead babies or
body parts they find on occasion. They
don’t get paid for the glass cuts in their skin, either.
(Enter Sister #1
and Sister #2)
Sister #1 – Just the electronics and plastics.
Narrator – They search for 12 hours, but usually
more. They have to; they’re paid on
commission. There are children to feed
back home.
Sister #2 – I have a two-year-old girl. We live right over there.
(Sister #2 points
to the outskirts of the dump)
Narrator – Sometimes, back home doesn’t exist. The
burning never stops. A constant scent of
burning garbage and feces. A backup
reminder of where you spend life, in case your eyes would ever fail you. Standing on trash, digging through trash,
waiting for more trash. Such is
life. The sisters live it. They wear trash- covered rags, and still,
there’s a beauty to them. But, with the
exception of dump truck drivers, no one will ever see them. There’s disease. There’s a cemetery on the outskirts of the garbage. Born in a garbage dump, live in a garbage
dump, buried in a garbage dump. Such is
death. This world is in Ecuador,
too. And Africa. And other places, where they haven’t stopped letting
children work there.
(Audience
applause)
(Credits)
Characters: tourists, bartenders, corrupt cops, young
girls, lady-boys, child, missionary
Setting: a mile long road in Southern
Thailand, lit so bright there is no room for shadows; cars are replaced with
poor, young Thai girls and wealthy, old Western men
Act III
Narrator – God used the rib of Adam to form woman
and a filthy alleyway used the lights of Times Square to form Bangla Road. Eyes open just a little wider the first time
they see it, and rainbows are put to shame against infinite neon of every
shade. It casts a glow to the street and
a promise of something very different. Yea, there’s something in those
lights.
(Enter tourists)
(Audience
applauds)
Tourist #1 – It’s the best place in the world for one
reason and one reason only: It’s a man’s playground.
Tourist #2 – It’s part of their life. It’s the way their culture is. It’s not a big
deal.
(Enter Thai
girls)
Narrator – They’re renowned for their smiles. One smile from a young Thai girl can make a
man feel preferred, handsome and appreciated. Beautiful smiles from every direction welcome you into Bangla Road. Girls that look like they’ve never been
happier reach for your arm and stroke your back as you walk by them.
Tourist #3 – I’ll tell you one thing for sure, working
here is a helluva lot better than working in the rice fields.
Narrator – They come from Northern Thailand, or Burma,
or somewhere else where money is scarce. Girls, sometimes not old enough to be out of high school, come to find
jobs in hotels or restaurants, unaware that English is mandatory for a job in
Phuket. Stuck without a job or money,
girls are funneled down into Bangla Road. Some begin in the bars, where they’re required to go home with men at
the bar. Others work in the closed door
bars, dancing or performing ‘shows’ for men sometimes old enough to be their
grandfather. Others skip past the facade
– the bartending and the dancing – and stay outside the bars, on the streets. There’s no need for fake smiles or small talk
with this job. She’s a product, and
there are thousands of shoppers every night. She’s raped by the highest bidder.
(Enter
Missionary)
Missionary – Do you want to know what they tell me? I
met a girl on the street the other night, and I asked her if she was afraid to
be working here because two girls on the street were killed by their clients in
the last two months. She said, ‘I wanna die. If I die and I go to hell it would
be better than this.’
(Enter lady-boys
and the children)
Narrator – There are special bars designated for the
lady-boys. These are Gender-confused
boys that dance like female strippers every night. It’s controversial and it draws a crowd and
it makes money. When they make enough
money, they pay for a sex-change operation. The lady-boy bar is one of the most crowded on Bangla Road. Tourists laugh at the lady boys. Most, if not all, of the boys’ confusion
comes from sexual abuse at a young age.
(Audience laugh
track)
Tourist #4 – A lot of it is illusion, what you see on
the streets here. It’s all about the
visual smorgasbord. Behind the polished facade
here is a very sad, empty, empty place.
(Enter child)
Narrator – Dim the neon lights. Look behind the beautiful smile. Mute the laughter from the lady-boys. That’s the only way to see a child sold to an
adult. A boy or a girl, maybe 12, maybe
younger.
(Audience
applause)
(Credits)
Answer: D. None of the above
I’ve seen these stories
unfold, but they couldn’t be true. They
couldn’t. When my thoughts go to what I saw,
they leave confused once more.
The battle
between light and dark, white and black is no longer in question. A battle “against evil rulers and authorities
of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil
spirits in the heavenly places” can no longer be argued against.
Murder and
witches and garbage and babies and little girls and slavery. These are just three stories of this
world. There are millions more. I’ve still never seen the genocide in Sudan,
the child soldiers in Burma, or the terrorism in Afghanistan. There is an evil in this world, and it fights
against love. Dark and light.
But the confusion
doesn’t come from the reality of this war. It comes from the reality of the slightly shaded area of gray in
between. Those called to spend a life in
love but spend a life on the fence instead. My confusion comes from the Border States named American Christians. I’ve seen the story of Good vs. Evil this
year. But there’s another story. An act IV.
There are two
settings in this story. One is an
educated, comfortable religion that lives in its self-proclaimed nickname the First
World. The other is a suffering, lonely,
sick, struggling, helpless place called Most of the World.
The supporting characters
are women living in garbage and dead babies and men living through the NFL and
child soldiers and the dying and sex slaves and women needing new cars and glue-kids
and starving girls and homeless boys. But the main character is a king with only two commands, who loved, fought,
died, conquered, fulfilled and set free ferociously. Only two commands.
Jesus – A new command I gave you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.
That ‘love one another’ thing – that ‘love your neighbor’ thing – isn’t so bad. Jesus, thanks for saving me and loving me and forgiving me. In return, i can try to love my neighbor… no problem. But then, it got confusing. When He said, ‘I am the neighbor,’ it got serious.
“Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.“
One more time:
Murder and witches and garbage and babies and little girls and slavery and
genocide and child soldiers and terrorism. One day, He will say to some, “depart from me.”
Jesus – For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’
(Audience applause)
(Credits)
Answer: E. These stories are real. The war is real. Just because you haven’t seen them, ignore them, or are too busy for them doesn’t make them disappear. There are people a short walk, or drive, or a short flight away that suffer daily. Their name is Jesus.
This isn’t for me to judge the Christians back home just because I’m on a ‘mission trip’. I’m talking to myself, too. I’ll be home in 3 months. The only difference is that now I’ve seen it.
The stories are real, and there is no slightly shaded area
of gray in this battle. There’s dark,
there’s light. Jesus said not only can
you make a difference, you better make a difference. Bring Kingdom to Earth. I’ve heard Christians talk about love and
caring like it’s a gift. Like it’s an
option. There are those that choose love
and those that choose to ignore it. There are those that hear Jesus, and those that hear Jesus and obey. The only thing not real is that gray area.
I guess the reason I’m confused is because although we know
the story closes with ‘And the poor and needy lived happily ever after. The End,’ we act like the credits won’t roll.
