The immigrant

In a plain dark room there’s a cage. On the outside there’s a singular chair. OLIVER, bruised and battered, is in the cage. He paces back and forth with a slight limp.

He speaks with an Eastern European accent.

OLIVER
Three weeks… that felt like an eternity. Bodies dangling on the edges of the earth begging for life. Endless nights of unwanted screams penetrating your abdomen becoming a sharp unbearable pain!

Oliver stands up and looks around, speaking to the other detainees.

OLIVER (CONT’D)
Brethren, the blood that has been shed will not be in vain. We will sing a new song, dance a new dance. The smell of dead flesh will not deter us… the sight of discarded bones will not DETER us. We MUST fight…

USMAN
My friend will you shut up! Making so much noise, you’re giving me a headache.

USMAN, a Border Official, walks into the room carrying a book and sits on the empty chair.

OLIVER
Keeping us here is illegal. I’ve been here for one week now… no lawyer…

USMAN
When you came here, did you come with a lawyer?

OLIVER
It’s my right to be given one…

USMAN
See me see life! Did you think of my rights when you came into this country illegally?

Oliver doesn’t answer.

USMAN (CONT’D)
Instead I am forced to come here every day and to hear people squealing like caged animals.

Usman opens his book.

USMAN (CONT’D)
So, what is your name?

OLIVER
I already gave my name when they put me in here.

USMAN
Yes but I’m asking you.

OLIVER
It’s Arnaud.

USMAN
Arnaud Dimitri.

OLIVER
Yes that’s me.

USMAN
Is it?

OLIVER
Of course…

USMAN
Where were you born, Arnaud?

OLIVER
Czech Republic.

USMAN
Date?

OLIVER
September 24th 2081.

USMAN
You’re pretty good.

OLIVER
What are you talking about?

USMAN
Your real name isn’t Arnaud, is it?

OLIVER
It is…

Usman pulls out an ID card.

USMAN
A couple of days ago a body washed up on shore; he’d been stabbed several times. We found this ID card on him.

OLIVER
I can explain…

USMAN
Murderers and illegal immigrants are not allowed in the AU.

OLIVER
I didn’t kill him.

USMAN
But you knew him.

OLIVER
I met him on my way here.

USMAN
What happened to him?

OLIVER
He tried to steal from someone and they killed him.

USMAN
Who?

OLIVER
I don’t know.

USMAN
And you assumed his identity. Why?

OLIVER
I just thought it would be safer.

USMAN
Safer how?

OLIVER
He was from the Czech Republic…

USMAN
And….

Oliver reverts to his English accent.

OLIVER
I’m English.

USMAN
Oh. So you’re not just a murderer, an illegal immigrant, you’re also a con-artist.

OLIVER
No – I am none of those things.

USMAN
You are here under false pretences.

OLIVER
No, I’m here for protection.

USMAN
OK – benefit of the doubt.

Usman opens up his book and begins to ask questions, writing down Oliver’s answers.

USMAN (CONT’D)
What is your name?

OLIVER
Oliver Montgomery.

USMAN
Where are you from?

OLIVER
Great Britain.

USMAN
Are you still great?

Usman turns another page.

USMAN (CONT’D)
Did you illegally enter into the African Union last week?

OLIVER
I had no choice… my family…

USMAN
The question requires a yes or no answer.

OLIVER
But you haven’t heard my story.

USMAN
Countless cells are full of men and women who have left everything because they bought into the African Dream – sunshine and money. (Pause) So what could you possibly tell me that I haven’t heard before?

Oliver says nothing.

USMAN (CONT’D)
That’s what I thought… Yes or no?

OLIVER
Yes.

Usman flips the page.

USMAN
Why didn’t you come into the country with the proper documentation?

OLIVER
If you would let me explain…

USMAN
The Home Office website has the guidelines of all the things needed. Can you read, Oliver?

Oliver doesn’t answer.

USMAN (CONT’D)
Can you read, Oliver?!

OLIVER
Are you trying to insult me?

USMAN
If I wanted to insult you, I would insult you. Can you read?

Oliver still doesn’t answer.

Usman stands up and closes his book. He turns and begins to walk away.

OLIVER
Yes!

Usman stops, turns around and looks at him. He takes a seat again, opens the book and continues to flip through pages.

USMAN
If you can read then why do you not have the required visa for entry?

OLIVER
In Great Britain…

USMAN
Britain…

OLIVER
Sorry?

USMAN
You’re a tiny little island that no one cares about.

OLIVER
I’m calling us by our name.

USMAN
And I’m calling you by your stature.

OLIVER
We are a nation that has won wars…

USMAN
Colonised nations, freed prisoners, fed the hungry… yes, yes, it’s a story we’ve all been told. However, it doesn’t explain why you’re here with no visa.

Usman pulls out another sheet of paper and reads from it.

USMAN (CONT’D)
For entry, those coming from Britain must have a minimum of 3000 Afros, which is… let me see, the equivalent of £6000. You must also have at least six months on your passport, a letter of invitation or a work permit. (Pause) You must know this, or you wouldn’t have tried to claim you were Czech.

He turns his attention to Oliver.

USMAN (CONT’D)
Do you have any of these things?

OLIVER
No.

USMAN
For a nation so great, it produces a lot of idiots.

OLIVER
You don’t know me… what brought me here… I have a right to tell my story!

USMAN
You ALL want to come here – willing to die to be free…

OLIVER
Our lives have been destroyed!

USMAN
How is that my problem? You’re the ones that voted in UKIP and left the EU.

OLIVER
Your soldiers stormed the streets, relentless airplanes in our skies, bombs coming in, for months and months.

USMAN
Because you would not leave Africa alone.

OLIVER
You closed your borders when the world was suffering.

USMAN
You closed your borders so you wouldn’t have to deal with the suffering.

OLIVER
People were scared.

USMAN
Of what? The mess they had created? It was OK to tell Libya they had a Qaddafi problem, to solve it for them but not to help them when they were homeless.

OLIVER
There was only so much we could do…

USMAN
You destroyed homes in the name of peace and when those people came begging for help – ‘we need to regulate immigration’, ‘my kids can’t both go to the same school’ – but you had taken everything from those people.

OLIVER
I was on your side! I fought for you.

USMAN
You fought for your own guilt.

OLIVER
I fought because I believe in equality; we are all the same!

Usman bursts out laughing.

USMAN
We are not the same…

Usman holds out his hands, turns them back and forth.

USMAN (CONT’D)
Nature already dictates that.

OLIVER
Only if you choose to focus on our differences. Yes we are different colours, but underneath all of that… are we not just humans?

USMAN
Of course we are. No one here is from outer space. But do you eat eba?

OLIVER
No…

USMAN
Do you know what eba is?

OLIVER
No…

USMAN
Have you ever had bitter leaf soup? With fresh snails and dry fish?

OLIVER
There are many foods I’ve never eaten.

USMAN
Then there are many things that make us different.

Joy Gharoro-Akpojotor is a Nigerian-born writer who graduated from Queen Mary, University of London with a BA in Film Studies and subsequently completed an MA in Creative Writing in Films, Plays and TV from City University, London. She has written two plays, Sunday and The Immigrant, which have both been performed at the Africa Writes festival in London. Aside from writing, Gharoro-Akpojotor is also an award-winning film producer.

Photo by Helen Murray.