street theatre The heir of Bileam

  
              street theatre
                                       The heir of Bileam
 
A person dressed in black and with horns dances and sings:
 
I am the devil in disguise
quite many people think me wise
Both scold and murder I provide;
seduce to choose old Satan's side
 
Hey, there lives a moslim fellow (in an old little caravan at the back of the stage)
I'll have him cursed and turn him yellow (which means fleeing)
So that he parts from Europe's lusty fields
to deserts where hot sand not much yields
The oil there 's only for the rich
to keep it so I will bewitch,
make (the) poor forget they're Adams heirs
and should possess what's theirs
 
He puts on a hat which makes invisible his horns.
 
On the stage appears a donkey (played by two acrobats)
on which is seated a man with European face and evt. blond hair.
 
Devil: My dear friend, nice weather today, although the plants might have a small shower. Are you travelling comfortably? Good day to you.
Donkeyrider: And a fine day to you all the same. Yes my donkey is very obedient and goes where I want to.
Devil: And that is, if you allow me to ask?
Donkeyrider: Well, I am just making a trip in the countryside. What is that little thing over there?
Devil: That's a caravan and serves as a house to a moslim immigrant.
Donkeyrider: I don't like it. It does not fit well in the landscape. The environment should not be spoiled by huts or anything like for immigrants.
Devil: I agree completely with you.
Donkeyrider: Thanks, but how to get it removed?
 
                          I am a seated man and want my pleasure
                          Pay for that I can, from private treasure
                          I do not need a Bible or Quoran
                          But like removed competing man
                          Who 's out for money and a house like me
                          An immigrant aside makes feel less free
 
Devil: Exactly, well said, but immigrants won't go away from themselves.
Donkeyrider: They should.
Devil: Perhaps they need a little push.
Donkeyrider: That's forbidden, hands off is what the law says. I mean our law, for that of moslims seems to be unlike.
Devil: Indeed, before you know they hit with some terrorism.
Donkeyrider: I don't feel at ease with them in my neighbourhood.
Devil: Quite right, but you should not retreat. It will be them to go away.
Donkeyrider: They do not listen when that 's told them.
Devil: May be you should speak in kind of Declaration.
Donkeyrider: How do you mean?
Devil: That 's not difficult. One can start with declaring that each people has its own homeland and that this has to be respected also by migrants, especially when they do no not change and become as the already settled people.
Donkeyrider: Do you think that this will impress the fellow over there in his little caravan? He'll pretend that he does not understand my language properly.
Devil: Does not matter, actually, for you can go to him and have said with solemn words that he does not belong here. It suffices to use an old standard sentence for this purpose.
Donkeyrider: Standard sentence? What's that? May be some kind of spell that will drive the moslim man from here? They do believe in such things.
Devil: Yes, in ancient times it was also called putting a curse.
Donkeyrider: Cursing instead of blessing. Not bad in this situation. What should I utter?
Devil: Just go nearer on your donkey and I will follow and whisper you a great curse in the ear that you then can speak out on that person with his Quoran.
Donkeyrider: Very well. (He pushes the donkey with his knees to go forward).
The donkey does some steps forward, then stucks and remains like a statue.
The rider tries to get it moving and even hurt the animal in a bad way. It cries sadly Ia, ia, ia.
The donkeyrider gets angry and wildly he uses his whip on the poor beast.
Then the donkey turns his head to him and speaks:
You, son of Adam and Eve, on your way to that other son of Adam and Eve, hit me with your whip while I am protecting you.
Donkeyrider: Talking, not walking, what are you made for. Not to talk but to walk and bring me to that little caravan where I will speak a curse to have that moslim fellow removed. He raises again his whip.
The donkey answers:  Who is the fool of us, do you want your death? And perhaps mine too? Look ahead, the sword the angel has in his hand.
The public now sees a giant (glittering by light inside) sword (the two actors forming the donkey protrude it).
The donkeyrider acts bewildered, the devil has already dissappeared.
Out of his caravan comes the moslim man with a glass of water, asking: Are you allright, can I help. Here have a drink, inside my caravan there is coffee.
The donkeyrider, still deeply impressed and hardly able to speak utters:
Thank you, thank you, God bless you, Allah bless you.
Turning his face to the public: How could I be so stupid to listen to that devil.
He dismounts and they shake hands heartily.
The donkey turns its head to the public and says: That's better; we all are creatures of the angel's boss, although one's hair is blond, another's dark. Mine is grey (he sweeps his tail to show). Next one acrobat comes out of the donkey's skin and shouts: I am black (has also negro skin). The second, a red haired person, also appears, shouting: Do you like red?
 
All four sing: p.e.
                          Humain par la sagesse
                          de Dieu le Créateur
                          nous cherchons en noblesse
                          la liberté (à) tout coeur
                          Le droit pour chaque tête
                          's appelle égalité
                          Sur terre se rend une fête
                          plein de fraternité
         
 
Een mooi oud, klein caravannetje is voor opvoering gratis beschikbaar.

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