SCENE ONE

A dark, spare hotel room in Baghdad, furnished in the soulless style of the Baathist era. The lights come up on two Iraqi men of about thirty sitting in chairs facing an unseen interviewer situated ostensibly among the audience. ADNAN is soft-spoken, reflective, but quietly passionate; LAITH is more excitable and fidgety, with a hipper style. Next to LAITH is an old-fashioned Samsonite-type suitcase. On the table between them sits a small recorder with its LED light on.

ADNAN So you made it. We were starting to worry. Did you have a problem with hotel security?

LAITH They didn't even search us. "Are you carrying any weapons? Okay, go." I could have a bomb under my shirt! This place is no longer safe like when the Americans had a tank in front of the hotel.

ADNAN But it's safer than any other place in Baghdad.

LAITH Because the foreigners are gone and it is not worth attacking.

ADNAN I wanted to offer you food, but the restaurant is closed. This is something really shameful for an Iraqi.

LAITH I think we're the only guests here. The manager was so surprised to see us. At least there's hot water. I didn't take a hot shower for five weeks.

ADNAN Can you believe, my house is five kilometers away and it took me three days to get here? First there was fighting in Amiriya between the Americans and al Qaeda. They beheaded a teacher on my street. Then I got stuck at my sister's in Amel because the Mahdi Army was burning Sunni houses. My sister is married to a Shia man and he had to walk with me out to the road past the militia fighters to find a taxi. Without him they would have eaten me for breakfast. Do you know what is alaasa?

LAITH They are the informers who sit all day in the street and watch for people they consider the enemy. It means "the ones who chew."

ADNAN We have a new vocabulary.

LAITH (Slightly embarrassed) By the way, were you able to get the number? Ah, shokran, thank you so much. What is it? (He dials the number on his cell phone.)

ADNAN (After a pause, touching the recorder) Well ... you said you wanted to hear the whole story, from the beginning of the war. That seems like such a long time ago.

LAITH (Holding up his phone) No network. Of course.

ADNAN Okay, since we have no food to offer, we will give you our story. You are free to ask us anything.

LAITH From the horse's mouth. (He loves these American idioms.)

ADNAN Only don't use my real name.

LAITH Or mine. Call me Laith.

ADNAN Why don't you give a more Shia name?

LAITH Why should I give a Shia name? Why talk about Sunni and Shia? You bring it up so much these days! I think you are becoming sectarian.

ADNAN He knows I'm not sectarian, or I would hand him over to al Qaeda because they control my street. But these days the first thing everyone wants to know is "Are you Sunni or Shia?" And if you give the wrong answer — (He makes a slashing gesture across his throat.)

LAITH You didn't give a name yet.

ADNAN Well, let's say Adnan.

LAITH Not very Sunni! His real name is the most totally Sunni name.

ADNAN This is my problem. I have to carry a fake ID for different parts of Baghdad.

LAITH Sometimes I feel like we're standing in line for a ticket, waiting to die.

Outside, the call to evening prayer begins. ADNAN gets up and goes to look out the window, lights a cigarette, and smokes. LAITH is playing with his cell phone, nervously jiggling a leg. From time to time throughout the play he punches in the number again, with no luck.

LAITH You know, when the Americans came to Baghdad this hotel wasn't empty and dark like now. Every Iraqi who wanted a job was here. Journalists were here, soldiers were here, everyone mixing freely. It's sad to remember, with all the hopes that we had, and all the dreams, after the invasion —

ADNAN I was totally against the word "invasion." Wherever I went I was defending the Americans and strongly saying America was here to make a change. But now I have my doubts.

LAITH Me the same.

ADNAN smoking, beginning to remember.

ADNAN During the war with Iran, I was listening to American songs, and I watched a lot of American movies on television. I loved the English language because I believed that to learn English opens horizons for you. In Saddam's time, everything was banned. So to put your hand on an English book, it tells you things you don't read in Arabic books, especially the Arabic books that managed to get to the market in Baghdad. But an English book, they didn't understand, they were ignorant people at that time, so an English book would pass. I read mostly philosophy and adventure books. To be totally frank with you, even some porn books. And this helped a lot to improve my English, because it's an interesting subject so you really make an effort to understand.

LAITH Everyone thought he was a little weird. Even his own family.

ADNAN One of the authors I read — Colin Wilson, a British existentialist — he wrote about the "non-belonger." So I always thought of myself as I don't belong to the society. It was a painful kind of existence. After university I couldn't get a government job, I was selling cigarettes, selling spare parts, selling books on Mutanabi Street. But there was always, always this sound in the back of my head: the time will come, the time will come, the change will come. My time will come. It is not my destiny to live and die in Iraq like this. And when 2003 came, I couldn't believe how right I was.

LAITH A week before the war, I saw Adnan in the barbershop. I was getting my haircut for the military. At that time I worked in a computer shop, and I was going to hide at home instead of going to fight. You know the string Iraqi barbers use to take off the small hairs of the beard? (He demonstrates.)

ADNAN I tied one string around his finger. (LAITH shows his ring finger with the string.) I told him, "You should remember me by this if I'm killed in the war."

LAITH But then it was over so fast. The Americans came and saved me. And at that time everyone was so happy.

ADNAN Imagine, overnight you can say anything you like about Saddam. The first day, on the ninth of April, that day I still remember it very clearly when I saw the first man who is in the middle of the street and cursing Saddam.

A CURSING MAN steps into the light, ill dressed and poor looking, waving a photo of Saddam.

CURSING MAN Saddam, you dog, you destroyed my life! You sent me to fight the Iranians and see what they did to me! (He holds up his shirt to show a wound.) For what? For you? Now I'm old, my life is finished. I spit on you, I step on your face! May the Americans catch you and cut you into a thousand pieces! May they destroy your sons and their sons forever! (He puts the photo on the ground and stamps on it over and over until the light goes out.)

ADNAN This is the new life that was revealing in front of us. At that time to see the Americans, whom we only saw in movies, in our streets (the sound of Humvees roaring by and American voices, "Salaam...