stella41b
Posts: 4258
Joined: 10/16/2007
From: SW London (UK)
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9/11 started late for me, not until the afternoon. The noise of a passing tram in Al. Jerozolimskie woke me up. I was lying on the sofa. I got up and came round, deciding to make coffee in the kitchen. I lit the gas stove and put the kettle on and walked over to the window to look down on the busiest street in Warsaw. My apartment was a small studio on the 5th floor of Al. Jerozolimskie 42. The next building towards Warsaw Central station was the 'Rotunda' (round object), which was the PKO Bank in 'Centrum' the geographical centre of Warsaw.
Today was my first day of working at Dom Sztuka (the Warsaw Cultural Centre). This cultural centre was in the Warsaw district of Ursynow, lying to the south of Warsaw, and was a short walk away from Ursynow Metro Station. The building was unimpressive, a white-painted concrete cinema on the edge of a housing estate which appeared to be just like any other cultural centre on a Warsaw housing estate. As you approached the building from the station, which came up on your right, there were windows in which were mounted posters of the films that were showing. Inside there was a 135 seater theatre and auditorium. Here would be my first theatre in Warsaw. Today was the first workshop or 'casting'.
I left my apartment because I needed coffee, and walked along Rema 1000 which was behind Dom Handlowy Smyk in Al. Jerozolimskie. At that point I didn't know what was going to transpire today on the 11th day of September 2001, either for the world or for me.
Back in my apartment over coffee at the computer I printed out what I needed for my two private English conversation lessons and the script for The Foreign Patient (then The Scottish Patient).
Mirek – my first student – arrived shortly after 3.30pm and we sat and had our English lesson. Mirek was a beginner but wanted conversation, and it was always hard to work with him. He was in his 30's, unmarried and lived his life for insurance hoping to become an insurance broker. He had everything he needed I guess, except for one thing – intelligence.
“How are you?”
“How you are?”
“No no, how are you?”
“How you are?”
“No, listen please. How are you?”
“How are you?”
“Good. Now what do you say?”
“I Mirek.”
'No, that's not it.”
“You teacher?”
“Yes I am teacher.”
“Good.”
“Not good. I ask 'how are you?' You say 'I am fine'.”
“I don't understand.”
“I know that Mirek, but I'm trying.. Lord knows I'm trying.”
And so it continued. One excruciatingly painful hour of trying to get some basic English into Mirek's head. Coffee was necessary. Relief came in the form of the entryphone ringing and the arrival of Adam.
Wanting to simply drop Mirek onto the tram stop five floors below my apartment I graciously bid him goodbye and greeted Adam.
Adam was different, he was upper intermediate and almost a good friend. He was a mongrel of a geek and yuppie which you can only find in Warsaw, thirties, married, well connected, worked in finance, glasses, laptop, and whatever other yuppie gadget he picked up at the time. I nicknamed him Inspector Gadget as a result. He came into the flat all excited. At first I thought he was dying.
“Haven't you heard the news?” He asked. The next sentence was grammatically incorrect but contained the words terrorists, New York, aeroplanes, Bush, and World Trade Center. I wasn't sure whether he lost it, or I had. After Mirek I was almost sure it was me. This was to be the subject for the hour. Adam pulled out his laptop, hooked it up to my Internet, and we sat and watched and discussed what was happening in the news. He stayed over an hour and a half. He offered to pay me for two hours, I took for one, but told him that I had to get myself down to Ursynow to the theatre.
“Are you crazy?” he asked me. He told me that theatres had cancelled their shows and many shops and bars were thinking of closing down for the day as a mark of respect for the victims in the World Trade Center. I reminded him that it wasn't my decision, but that of the director of Dom Sztuki. Adam left.
I had wanted an hour to prepare myself mentally as I was about to conduct a workshop and needed to find myself in the correct headspace to be able to do this. However by the time I got myself ready it was twenty minutes to six and I was running late. I threw the script and my stuff into a bag and left only to meet my next door neighbour on the landing as I was locking my door.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I'm fine.” came my response.
“What do you think of Janusz Korczak?” came his next question. I had never heard of such a man.
“Who?” I asked, totally thrown by the question.
“Janusz Korczak,” he continued, and then, “How is your wife?”
There is no wife. The 'wife' was and is me – Stella. At the time I was living a double life and would alternately leave my apartment in male and female gender.
“Oh she's fine..” I lied.
“You don't think she'd mind if you came to us. I have some amber vodka somewhere.”
“I really must be leaving. I'm late. I need to get to the theatre.”
Without waiting for a response I leaned over and pressed the button for the lift. My neighbour went to my door.
“Well what about your wife?” he asked. I looked at him directly.
“She's out working.” I replied, “She will be in later this evening I think.”
The lift arrived, I entered and escaped my neighbour. In the walkway under the block near the small currency exchange kiosk another neighbour bid me well and asked me how my 'wife' was. I walked out into Al Jerozolimskie and into the Warsaw rush hour. I descended the steps into the underground walkways near the Rotunda by the roundabout 'Centrum' at the junction of Al Jerozolimskie and ul. Marszalkowska in the shadow of the Palace of Culture.
I was walking towards the Palace of Culture but not to emerge back up on Al Jerozolimskie and walk towards Warsaw Central railway station, but veered right into the concrete courtyard by Metro Centrum and entered the station, joining the escalators down to the platform.
Everything seemed normal, or if it wasn't, I was oblivious to it.
I walked along the platform to the front and joined the crowd of people. A train approached and pulled into the station. We all jostled on in one happy, jolly knackered throng into the carriages. Warsaw people are proud of the Metro, one line running north south through the city. Being people from Warsaw, some even get dressed up and look smart, not because they work in an office, but because they have to travel on the Metro to the centre. South of the geographical centre of Warsaw the next station was Warsaw Polytechic, the line cuts across to a beautiful park called Pole Mokotowskie and runs under the Warsaw district of Mokotow until Metro Wilanowska when it veers left and then south directly under Al KEN (National Education Committee Avenue) and through the massive blocks and estates of Ursynow. It's important to remember that this part of Warsaw was planned by the Gierek government the same way a chimpanzee would build a house out of Lego building bricks – there's a sort of order if only you could figure it out. This is why the Warsaw 'Dom Sztuki' Cultural Centre is at Wiolinowa 14, the supermarket beside it is Wiolinowa 63, and the block opposite is Wiolinowa 127.
Metro Ursynow has a police station. I am rushing. I rush up the stairs. The police station has policemen. I throw myself at the feet of two of them as I reach the barriers. This is not a custom. I tripped over the top step. I feel the policemen take hold of my arms. I am not being arrested. They are merely being helpful.
I enter the theatre which other people know as Dom Sztuki – anywhere where I work on a play or run workshops to me is a theatre, even if it is a telephone booth. I rush through the entrance and leap up the stairs to the top to find I am .... knackered.
The director is arguing with Andrzej Bukowski in the office, the secretary is on the phone and she sticks two fingers up at me. She is not being rude, but telling me that the director is busy. I leave the script on her desk with my plan of the workshops. She tells me that a few people have arrived and are waiting for me. In discussion with the director and after heavy publicity of the Warsaw media we estimate about twenty people have turned up for this 'casting'. I run back downstairs and enter the theatre. It is full..
Everybody is sitting in the seats. I get up on stage and greet everybody. I am about to start talking about the workshops when Bukowski comes running into the theatre and runs up to the stage and joins with me. Everyone looks at him. I look at him.
“You are aware of what's happened today?” he asks.
“Yes I am..”
“But surely you don't intend to start these workshops? The theatres are closing as a mark of respect for the victims of the World Trade Center.”
I look at the audience, and look back at him.
“But Andrzej, these people have made an effort to get here..”
“But the theatres are closing.. as a mark of respect for the victims.. many people have died.”
I stop and consider what he is saying. I hesitate. I look at the people.
“I don't care what the other theatres are doing. It was a terrorist attack, right? This isn't New York Andrzej, this is Warsaw, Poland. I'm sorry, but I refuse to give in to terrorists. I think here, especially as it's Poland we should show our solidarity with the Americans. These workshops are going ahead.”
Applause and cheers from the stage.
“But how many people are there here?” I ask. People start counting.
“A hundred and twenty.”
“Andrzej, I cannot work with that many people. I can work with half. Let the rest come back the day after tomorrow.”
“But how are we going to divide them.”
I turn and point to one of them at the far left hand corner. I start counting along the row “One two one two one two now continue please..” People divide themselves accordingly into ones and twos. I take a coin out of my pocket and flip it.
“The eagle or the symbol Andrzej..” Bukowski looks at me as if I've asked him for his shoes.
“Eagle”. I look at the coin.
“Ones stay where you are and make your way to the stage and twos see you Thursday at six here.”
I turn and look at Bukowski and smile as the people organize themselves as per my instructions. Bukowski slopes off.
I get everybody into a ring on the stage and occupy the centre of it. I walk around and smile at everyone.
“Everybody please join hands, hold the hand of the people next to you..” People join hands.
“Theatre is about people, people coming together.. Theatre is about life and because life goes on, you are all now standing together in a ring. This ring is the theatre. But this is also a ring of life. Life is you and the people who are with you at any given time. This ring is a community, just as any theatre is a community. If you were all, each of you individually, one whole community this ring would be society. And what is society about? It's about people. Theatre, together with community and life all make for a unified society of people working together. You are all, and I mean all of you, all essential components of the ring, of the theatre, of the community and of society. But you are individuals. Each and every one of you brings something to this ring. But individuals coming together create conflict and problems. Conflicts require compromise and problems require solutions. Nothing happens in the theatre without compromises and solutions. Nothing happens in the community without compromises and solutions. Nothing happens in society without compromises and solutions. Nothing happens in life without compromises and solutions, compromises and solutions which keep people together and maintain the ring.”
“This is my theatre. Welcome to my theatre.”
_____________________________
CM's Resident Lyricist
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