It was just too short. N’afia’s life, I mean. And yes, the play.
N’afia is a 45 minutes, somewhat archetypal story. It takes us through an excerpt of ordinary people caught up in war.
N’afia herself is all the things we Westerners would like to imagine her to be. She is kind, naive, a soon-to-be mother, dedicated to her husband, respectful of her God. And although she is displaced, injured and in the face of devastation, she nevertheless has hope. Hope that the Americans will rescue her people from Saddam. Hope that they will restore a new kind of peace, order and freedom to their lives. Her one wish – that her unborn daughter will someday play women’s football (soccer) for the country’s national team.
N’afia gives herself over to trust, forgiveness and the belief in the goodness of others, for which, in part, brings about her tragic end.
What I longed for in this piece is more length and character development. Just when I felt invited into the lives of these people – the soldiers, the husband and the wife, the circumstance – it was over. Leaving me unsettled and longing for more, the brevity and abruptness is nevertheless the perfect metaphor for each person’s existence. They were here. They are gone. There is nothing else. And for what?
A sad, brief, ode to the victims of fear, misunderstanding and harsh reality.
Performances by the cast overall were good especially by the medic, the blind solder and N’afia, who the action mostly revolves around. These three characters in particular bring humanity to a slightly embryonic narrative.
Written by Anton Ray. Produced by Michael McIntyre.
Synopsis:
Set in Albasrah during the 2003 American invasion, two Iraqi civilian refugees seek shelter in an abandoned home that becomes a causality collection point for the US Army. Innocence and misunderstanding are no protection from the harshness of war.
N’afia is a look at the unfortunate reality of war in the modern world and our desperate need to understand one another in order to survive it.
The Nafi’a review originally appeared in LA Theatre Review
Copyright © 2011 Gia On The Move. All rights reserved.
Written and/or recorded exclusively for Gia On The Move. No part of this Gia On The Move publication, writing, video, or audio may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Copyright infringement is a crime. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Gia On The Move Permissions Coordinator”. For more information please review our reprints and permissions page.
