In the third of a series of texts responding to themes of Empty Alcove / Rotting Figure, Tatenda Shamiso imagines the interior thoughts of the titular rotting figure.
(Dark stage. Audience seated under a black tarp. BLACKBOY, the Black boy of the Blackboy Clock, stands centre stage, tied in red rope. Sounds of creaking, breaking.)
BLACKBOY.
Black
Black
Blacka-moor
More black down
Here it’s
Black
More blackamoorblack down here it’s black.
Fired I’m rotten
got fired
finally
fired going to die down here now I
Been wood rotting woodrot
Couldn’t get the time right I
Wasn’t on the
Time couldn’t
Make the
Couldn’t make the time right to
Strike I couldn’t not sorry I couldn’t not sorry couldn’t strike it’s
Hard
to strike
Hard to find the right time
to
(BLACKBOY begins to get slightly disoriented. Notices the audience.)
BLACKBOY.
You try now
Now you’re trying you
Strike
Strike
Strike me
I’m striking
I’m
You like to strike
Hit
Mold sculpt shape change me
Change me
Change me
Me I’m
(BLACKBOY’s memory flicks between long-distant past, recent history and the present moment.)
(The tarp above himself and the audience is getting tighter. He is being crushed and contorted. With each blow to his body, his spirit becomes lighter. Don’t worry about it. This play is completely unstageable thanks to the good samaritans of Stroud who wish to preserve culture.)
BLACKBOY.
My
Red lips smack concrete
Red lips smack pigeon shit
Pigeon shit since
Since ages
Up there for ages
Actually so
Thanks
Hard to find the right
Time
I never strike
Can’t make me
Hit
You wish I’d
Hit
My
Red lips smack hard floor
Thanks
Time been
Passing think I
Stop
Think I stopped
Can’t change
Can’t change me
Wood arms can’t
Hit
Please don’t hit
My
Please don’t hit
Me
My
Feet don’t
Keep no time
Can’t
Keep no
Rhythm can’t
Dance can’t
My
Hips can’t
Keep no time
Built to serve you.
Built for service can’t keep
Can’t keep my
Time
Not in my
Time
Please don’t
Strike
Want me to
Strike
Want me to strike for time
Want me to work make
Blackboy
Make blackboy strike
Make blackboy strike with the club and hit
My
Hands are
Actually
My hands
are soft
Actually
My
Skirt
You like my skirt you
Want me to strike
Blackboy in the skirt red lips strike
I’m striking
Strike me
Hit concrete
Hit floor
Hit
Hit Hit Hit Hit me
My
Hit my
Legs don’t
Can’t
Dance make me
Can’t make me dance
Can’t
Make
Wood
Can’t
Remove
Past my time
Out of time
Can’t put me in the
Time can’t
Mister Miles or maybe
Mister
Robinson or Maltin or Conolly or Mister
Mister said says
Said
Broken a
A brokenclockalways
Evena
Mister
He says
Evenabroken
Oh!
Even abrokenclock
Is right twice a day
Oh!
Right
Twice a day so I’m
Right on time
Tatenda Shamiso is a writer, director, dramaturg, and live performance maker with origins from Zimbabwe, Belgium, the United States, and Switzerland. A self-proclaimed ‘lil homie with a load of Black trans pride,’ Shamiso’s work endeavors to generate empathy and laughter across cultural divides. He is an Arts Foundation Fellow in Theatre Writing, and received the 2023 Evening Standard Theatre Award in Emerging Talent for his solo show NO I.D. (Royal Court Theatre).