The Voices Project 2016: All good things

All good things

ATYP

• Publisher: Currency Press
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781925359619
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

ATYP's annual production of seven-minute monologues for seventeen-year-old actors has changed the landscape for young writers and performers in Australia. Since the program was established in 2011 the Voices Project has supported the professional development of more than 120 young playwrights, resulted in six publications by Currency Press, instigated ten short films, been broadcast on ABC Radio National and performed by schools, youth theatres and independent companies in every Australian state and territory. The films and online resources have received more than 1 million views worldwide.%##CHAR13##%%##CHAR13##%'The air seems to shift. A stark black crow dives down...%##CHAR13##%Out of sight.%##CHAR13##%The light's changing, we should have left by now.'%##CHAR13##%%##CHAR13##%But all good things must come to an end. This final season explores the theme of departures. Always surprising, tender, shocking and funny, the Voices Project has given a generation of young Australians monologues that speak their language. It's always sad to say goodbye.

A LONG WALK HOME

YARRIE BANGURA

Writer’s note: This piece is not autobiographical. The writer hopes that it might give a voice to people taking refuge in Australia from unrest in their country of origin.

People tell us in Australia there will not be African food. They repeat it over and over, there will be no rice to eat. No stew. There will be no rice to eat. The day we leave we eat as much as we can, especially me, I eat so much it is as if I am pregnant.

My grandmother, my aunty, all my relatives come to the airport to say goodbye. ‘If we don’t see you again, that’s it, goodbye.’ ‘We’ll see you again in the next world.’ ‘Please don’t forget us.’

They tell me Australia is the last continent and it’s surrounded by water. Where can I run to there? I can’t even swim. I am scared the sharks will eat me.

I go to school. In my traditional clothes. At the school they ask me so many questions, about my hairstyle braid twist. ‘Where do you come from?’ ‘Why did you come here?’ ‘What was it like there?’ ‘Did you live among the animals?’ ‘Did you live in a tree?’

Seriously?

My house was two stories, next to the ocean. Surrounded by green. My house was so fancy that you could go to the bus stop and ask them for the yellow house.

I had everything at my fingertips

Shofel driving me to school, my friend’s house to play

My parents have plenty of money

They were generous givers to whoever was in need

‘I want braids, Conrad braids, twists… I like twists’

Whatever I, princess, feels like

Love was all I saw

Happy faces all around

Beautiful vibrant colours

Every day is a celebration

We dance, we sing.

Everybody is my family.

Every night in the village we bless the moon

[Singing maybe in Susu] ‘I see the moon, the moon sees me, God bless the moon and God bless me.’

In the village there’s no TV.

We dance till we’re tired. We form a group down the hill and up the hill, come together to meet in a village choir. We have the instrument players. The boys. Our elders sit down to watch us and cheer for us. We sing with joy and laughter. Stomping our feet to the ground. The red dust arises. We dance with deep-meaning songs. Song of joy, song of sadness. Some of them are sad. But every song has steps. Like sometimes the dance is like a competition as well. The dance becomes a competition like battle. Whoever shakes it the most wins. And we end with stories from our elders. Stories just like the Dreamtime.

It all sounds like a beautiful life.

‘Where do you come from?’ ‘Why did you come here?’

My school is a private school. Very secure facility with bodyguards. No-one can come to collect a child except if the parents give permission.

We are at school when we hear a loud sound, bam! bam! Our teacher, Mrs Kamar, is shaking and confused. There is no time for questions and the school gate is wide open for the first time. We all run out of the school gate and people are falling, crying, shouting, pushing. Tear gas explodes, like chilli in my eyes.

It is the beginning of war in my country, Sierra Leone. The rebels did this. Hands, legs chopped off and victims left in pools of blood, houses burnt, properties lost, gunshots everywhere, children abandoned and crying for their parents. At the end of that first day the street is empty and quiet like the graveyard, animals silent in the street, heavy smoke from the guns and the houses on fire. The only voices are the rebels and their loud music. Rejoicing.

They take young people as hostages. They go from door to door, banging and forcing the door open. They yell, ‘Open this door now or we burn you alive!’ They take young boys and convert them into rebels. They take young girls and to them they do awful things. They took me. They take us to a house far away from our families. They keep us th...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Foreword by Ciella Williams
• Introduction by Iain Sinclair
• First Production
• The Voices Project: All Good Things
• Biographies
• Copyright Page