It is often said that great theatre has the ability to transcend language. Recently, I got a chance to find out that the opposite is also true. Love in Fallujah was a run-away hit this Eid-al-Fitr (the holiday to celebrate the end of Ramansan) in Kuwait, performing to sell-out crowds. A farce-cum-pantomime, it told the story of two Kuwaiti men who get mistaken for "foreign fighters" during a trip to the eponymous city in search of a bride. Written and produced by a local man, Mohammad Al-Rashoud, the play had already courted controversy, given the evocative use of the titular Iraqi city that dominated the news during the month of November.
Prior to its performance, the Associated Free Press reported that the title of the play had been changed. Originally called A Kuwaiti in Fallujah, this had been deemed too sensitive given the current situation in Iraq. The reason being, of course, is that there are at present a small but unknown number of Kuwaitis in Iraq with more than matrimony on their mind. In recent months, as the US military have engaged in urban warfare in cities such as Karbala, Najaf and Fallujah, reports have trickled back to Kuwait of small numbers of Kuwaitis killed in the fighting. Often only their initials are released to the public. There have also been a number of arrests of people accused of encouraging, facilitating and training young men to follow them. Getting to Iraq usually involves passage through Syria and local media have reported instances of Kuwaiti youths being deported back to Kuwait while attempting to arrange transport across the border in to Iraq.
But back to the show. This being Kuwait, my companion and I got to witness the two sides of this country that manages to simultaneously infuriate and enamour the visitor. Due to the intense demand for tickets, we had purchased ours two days in advance. On presenting our tickets at the door we were told they were in fact for the 4pm show and not the 8pm performance as requested. If I had been at home in Ireland, a caveat emptor clause would surely have been invoked and our evening would have ended before it began. In this case however, all it took were a few phone calls before the very polite and personable manager appeared and assigned us new seats, with an upgrade!
The set was dominated by a five-metre grenade in the background that loomed over the actors as they went through a number of standard sketches that took a few cheap shots at the standard caricatures used worldwide in such productions. I managed to identify the village idiot and the lascivious older man without having to resort to my companion for translation. In hindsight, changing the title of the play was a good idea as the Kuwaiti characters didn't appear on stage for at least an hour whereby one of their first actions was to instruct an officer in Iraq's newly formed police force how to use a mobile phone, much to the amusement of the crowd. All good clean fun indeed.
Of course, even in such a light-hearted piece, it is impossible to completely escape politics. The father of the prospective bride tells his daughter not to speak to any Americans on the street but that talking to the English is alright. During another discussion it's mentioned that it was the Gulf countries that had helped Iraq in the past. Though in reality, such references were rare and slapstick comedy was the order of the day. So, after two hours my companion had had enough and when the interval came we decided to make our escape.
As I drove home, I wondered how things were going to end for all the foreigners currently converging on Iraq. Would the Kuwaiti get to marry the girl? When will the Americans really be able to say mission accomplished? Where will this present generation of "foreign fighters" go once the situation in Iraq is resolved? After thinking about it for a while, I decided that due to his local knowledge and clearly defined goals, I had most confidence in the Kuwaiti getting a successful result.
This was my first time attending a theatrical performance in a foreign language. Though I picked up the gist of the action, the nuances escaped me. Sitting in the theatre, the only non-Arabic speaker in sight, I thought this is what it must be like for the US administrators and planners now in Iraq, removed and isolated in secure areas such as the Green Zone in Baghdad, trying to make sense of what's going on around them. Surrounded by both screams and laughter, looking at one other, trying to figure out what is the source of all this hilarity, while at the same time having a gnawing suspicion that the joke is really on them.
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