TEA WITH ALI
Germaine Shames
A rookie American journalist in pursuit of her first big story lands an interview with a Palestinian bomber convicted of the most notorious terrorist act of its time. Which one of them is more dangerous?
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Ali Mahmoud:
Eve Bernstein:
Bodyguard:
Cast of Characters
Convicted
African-Palestianian bomber not long out of prison; late
30s
American journalist; 20s to early 30s
A brawny male, late teens through 40s
Scene
An East Jerusalem restaurant.
Time
1989

ACT I
Scene 1
Ali sits sipping a cup of mint tea in an empty
East Jerusalem restaurant. A bodyguard stands watch nearby.
ALI
You’ll search her when she arrives?
BODYGUARD
Costa knows her -- knows her boyfriend.
ALI
Ya’allah! If what the rumors say is true, the boyfriend’s a dead man.
(cupping a hand to his mouth)
Zionist women with the AIDS virus are being sent to
East Jerusalem -- to infect us. Blondes especially.
BODYGUARD
This one’s dark.
ALI
Worse. The dark ones blend in.
(discreetly pointing with his chin)
Is that her, with the camera? Didn’t you tell her, no cameras?
Eve approaches.
EVE
Mr. Mahmoud?
ALI
Ali.
BODYGUARD
Your camera, I’ll take it.
ALI
Never mind, Fayed. Miss Bernstein is on her honor neither to photograph nor record our interview.
(motioning Eve into a seat)
You’ve brought a notebook?
Eve gives a clipped nod.
EVE
I had hoped to snap a few --
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 2.
ALI
Not possible, I’m afraid. City detention. Must keep below the radar -- were you followed?
EVE
Why, no. Not that I noticed.
ALI
Mustn’t call me by phone.
EVE
Yes, that’s what Costa said.
ALI
The interview is for foreign publication only -understood?
Eve readies her notepad and ballpoint pen.
EVE
Understood. May I begin?
ALI
Tea?
Ali signals the bodyguard to bring a cup.
ALI
So, how long have you been in Jerusalem?
EVE
From the start. Three, four months?
ALI
Ah. And are you comfortable here?
EVE
I rent a room.
ALI
And your health?
The bodyguard arrives with Eve’s tea, and the two men exchange a look.
EVE
Good. Excellent.
ALI
Ah. Friends?
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 3.
EVE
I’ve met a few people.
The bodyguard sets down Eve’s tea and resumes his watch.
ALI
Drink. Relax. You’re among friends here. Isn’t that right, Fayed?
The bodyguard nods.
EVE
I’ve prepared a few questions --
ALI
Relax. Cigarette?
EVE
No. Thanks. I don’t --
ALI
Of course you don’t. Still, one must offer.
EVE
May I begin by asking --
ALI
I already know what you’re going to ask me, what every journalist asks. Every day I repeat and repeat the same story. I could interview myself: Tell me, Mr. Mahmoud, why, at a time of relative peace, did you plant fifteen potentially lethal bombs in public buildings across
West Jerusalem?
EVE
All right then, why did you?
ALI
Your tea’s getting cold.
EVE
The most sensational terrorist act of its time -perpetrated by a sixteen year old boy. Unthinkable.
When I first heard about you, I imagined someone hard, heartless. Yet, here you are, so...
ALI
Human? Not all that different from yourself. And therein lies the true terror: that what I am capable of, so are you.
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 4.
EVE
That may be, but --
ALI
Twenty years I spent in an Israeli prison, thinking, studying, re-imagining my place in this age-old allegory...
EVE
But you haven’t answered the --
ALI
One thing has always puzzled me about you Americans: your so-called "pursuit of happiness." You don’t seem particularly happy, Miss Bernstein.
EVE
Call me Eve. Happy? News gathering in this part of the world can be a grim business.
ALI
Whereas I, Eve, in this moment, sitting across the table from a beautiful woman -- I feel joy. The joy of... ordinariness.
EVE
Our meeting is anything but ordinary.
ALI
A man and a woman sipping tea, sharing thoughts...
EVE
In the midst of an uprising. Look, I don’t mean to be indelicate --
ALI
Then don’t be. Eve. From the Garden of Eden. If only we could go back in time... all of us free and without shame. Without hatred.
EVE
What was it that made you plant those bombs, if not hatred?
ALI
Hopelessness. You don’t know what it’s like to be on the losing side. After the Six Day War, the Israelis poured into East Jerusalem, singing and dancing in their circular hats. Singing on our doorsteps while we cowered behind drawn curtains. They had taken our future. I thought their singing would never stop!
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 5.
EVE
So you silenced it?
ALI
Let’s just say I tempered their arrogance. For a while.
It’s taken time to learn each other’s weak spots, but now we are the best of enemies.
The bodyguard, yawning, switches on a radio, lowers the volume. Lively Arabic music plays.
EVE
You joke?
ALI
Not at all. Look around you. Israelis and Palestinians have made a science of inflicting suffering -- firebomb our bus and we blow your homes to splinters; kidnap our soldiers and we imprison your sons until their hair falls out... Scrap that last bit.
(beat)
Do you like music, Eve? This song, for instance. Feel how it tugs at your spirit... how it lifts you from your seat.
Without warning Ali stands and extends his hands to Eve.
ALI
Dance with me.
EVE
This is hardly the time or place.
ALI
Forget what’s happening in the streets. Pretend we’re in Eden. Dance!
Ali pulls Eve to her feet and dances with mounting exuberance.
ALI
You’re determined not to like me. Yet you do.
EVE
Immaterial. I’ve come for a story.
ALI
Relax, relax. You’ll have your story.
Ali, singing snippets of the song’s lyrics, dips her and lifts her and spins her around the room.
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 6.
ALI
Sing! Come on, sing!
EVE
But I barely know any Arabic.
ALI
Sing anything! Sing a nursery rhyme.
EVE
(haltingly sings)
I’m a little teapot short and stout...
ALI
Ha-yel! Brilliant!
(as if in a state of wonder)
I’m a little teapot...
EVE
(sings)
... short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout.
ALI
(miming)
My handle, my spout.
EVE
(sings)
When I get all steamed-up, hear me shout. Just tip me over and pour me out.
ALI
Ya’allah! Again! Don’t stop!
(sings, prompting her)
I’m a little teacup...
Eve stiffens, pulls away.
EVE
I can’t pretend. People were hurt in that bombing.
The bodyguard switches off the music.
ALI
Yes, they were. One of them came to see me -- a teenager like myself and she walked with a cane. Every step cost her. A kibbutz type. All sunshine and high ideals. She told me we each have a spark in our soul, a spark that joins us to something greater, and that, if
I let it, mine would rekindle and turn me from violence. My parents were Christian pilgrims, you know, from Chad. They believed such things, but me -- I only knew I had no country, no future.
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 7.
EVE
What did you say to her?
ALI
That she leave me in peace and never come back. I was
sixteen years old.
EVE
You sent away an angel?
ALI
An avenging angel. The very sight of her...
EVE
What would you say to her now ?
ALI
If life were that forgiving! If she would look at me in that same gentle way... Words? I’d give her my own leg!
Anything not to watch her limp away like a baby sparrow fallen from its nest.
EVE
I’m sorry.
ALI
I would give myself limb-by-limb for that girl -tell your readers that. And then, go home, Eve. This isn’t your struggle.
EVE
I can’t go home without a story. That one story people can’t ignore.
ALI
All the correspondents lining the bar at the American
Colony started out like you -- wide-eyed, hungry. Look at them now, drinking themselves numb night after night.
EVE
And you, Ali? Surely you’ve thought about leaving? They can’t detain you forever.
ALI
What THEY do to me matters very little. I chose my prison long ago. And yet, tonight, with you...
BODYGUARD
Seven-thirty, boss.
pointing with his chin)
That Prince Faisel lookalike from Al Jazeerah.
(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 8.
Ali nods dismissively, returns his attention to
Eve.
EVE
(choked-up)
Not much of a journalist, am I? Haven’t the mettle for it. I go off.
ALI
File your story, Eve Bernstein. Wring a few tears from the blindered masses. We won’t say goodbye.
Eve assents in silence and begins to walk off.
Before she can exit, Ali whistles, "I’m a Little
Teapot." Eve smiles and keeps walking.
FADE TO BLACK THEN UP
Eve, lit in vignette, sits alone at her laptop composing aloud...
EVE
Jerusalem; January 2, 1989. Headline: Why is This
Terrorist Dancing?
Convicted bomber, Ali Mahmoud, released two years ago in a prisoner exchange, has become the foreign press corps’ "pet terrorist." His waiting list for an audience is as long as the Pope’s. Never without a bodyguard, he holds court at an East Jerusalem restaurant that serves up more radical Islamic dogma than hummus.
A martyr-like figure in a moth-holed sweater, Ali has learned to woo the media with his seeming humility and pithy one-liners -- but look more closely. Through the chinks in his armor, this journalist glimpsed a chilling fanaticism. As I sat across the table sipping tea with the charming celebrity --
Eve shakes her head and deletes the last phrase.
Replaces it with...
EVE
... sipping tea with the CRIPPLER OF CHILDREN, I knew I was in the clutches of one very dangerous man.
BLACKOUT