LOWER NINTH

by Beau Willimon

Lower Ninth was originally presented at The Acorn Theatre as part of the Summer Play Festival in New York City, opening on 10 July 2007. The world premiere was at The Flea Theater in New York City on 28 February 2008. The UK premiere was at the Donmar Warehouse, London, on 30 September 2010.

New Orleans has been devastated by floods and two African Americans, Malcom (mid-forties) and E-Z (mid-twenties), are stranded on a rooftop, surrounded by water, awaiting rescue. Their only companion is the dead body of their friend, Lowboy, who didn’t make it when the waters rose. In this scene, E-Z tells Malcom about a very different time when he was stranded.

E-Z

Reminds me of this time, this field trip we went on when I was a kid. Out to the swamp. We all on those boats – you know? Those ones with the big fans? Fly on top of the water?

…

Right. So we all on these boats and we stop on this little island for lunch. Some park ranger man is tellin’ us ’bout nature, ’bout the crocs and whatnot, the birds, all the animals all ’round. But I gotta take myself a crap. I mean real bad. So I go on over into some trees a ways off, so nobody don’t see me, and I take my crap, wipe my ass with a leaf and shit. Problem is, when I come back all the kids, the boats, they gone. There I am on this little island ain’t no one around. So I figure I just wait, you know? Can’t be long ’fore they figure I’m missin’. But shit man, an hour goes by, then another, and another. Sun starts goin’ down. I’m scared to death, little kid like me all alone in the swamp there. But after a while I come to like the place. Like I got my very own island all to myself. Like I’m the king of this island, and can’t no one tell me what to do. Figure I can get some branches together, make myself a nice little hut. Make some fishing line outta the vines and shit. Weave myself some baskets outta the marsh grass to collect me some rainwater. Live there till I’m an old man. Dig my own grave and lie down in it my day come to die. I start hopin’ they don’t never find me. Just leave me right where I am. Like I’m a king, you know? King of this island an it ain’t nobody’s but mine.

E-Z chuckles. A pause.

…

Yeah man, they find me. Not that I helped ’em none. Night time come along and I hear the big ole fan boats comin’, see the search lights, hear folks callin’ my name. So what I do is hide myself in some bushes and hope they pass me on by. But those boats come right up to the island and all these park rangers come stomping through with flashlights. Wasn’t long ’fore they had me back in one of those boats. And man, did momma give me a whoopin’.

…

Teacher blamed it on me though. Said I shouldn’t have wandered off. And who you think my Mama’s gonna listen to? So I tell her ‘What? I was just s’posed to crap myself?’ And that pissed her off even more. So yeah, I got myself a whoopin’ good.

…

This roof here ain’t no place for a king.