Reykjavík Grapevine - 03.02.2012, Síða 30

30
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 2 — 2012
Art | Theater
THE PLAYERS
The Corporation The Farmers
The Friends The Locals
The Nature The Narrator
The Philosophers The Researchers
The State The Tourists
The Wardens The Worker
In a room—a small room, a bedroom—live
three-hundred-thousand people with their
pets and plants. Outside of the room is THE
NATURE. THE NATURE is also inside of the
room. THE NATURE is also the room. THE
NATURE is also the people, but the people
may or may not be aware of this. It is pos-
sible THE NATURE listens to the people at all
times. At all times, it is possible the people
do not listen to THE NATURE. People have
opinions. The people have opinions about
THE NATURE. It is possible THE NATURE has
opinions about the people.
THE TOURISTS: You have all of this beautiful
nature right here.
THE LOCALS: We do own this.
THE STATE: We let you own this.
THE PHILOSOPHERS: Do we own this?
THE NARRATOR: “…one of the greatest nat-
ural disasters of all times…”
The people exit the room. They walk in THE
NATURE, view hyoclastite ridges near Lan-
gisjór and pick at red scoria in Eldgjá. Rain
is constant in this moment. Boulders perch
on steep skriða slopes, gravity pulling their
weight toward an inevitable descent. They
walk with eyes toward boulders, toward
hulking threat of THE NATURE. The people
think THE NATURE threatens them and this
makes them feel alive. THE NATURE feels
alive. The people return to the room.
THE NARRATOR: “… habitat loss…”
THE LOCALS: We know something much
worse is on its way.
THE NARRATOR: “… overharvesting…”
THE TOURISTS: The moon looked blood red
behind the ash.
THE NARRATOR: “… pollution…”
THE FARMERS: Poisoned meat.
THE NARRATOR: “… invasive species…”
THE RESEARCHERS: Masculinity and racism
hand-in-hand with fortress conservation.
THE NARRATOR: “… disease…”
The people exit the room. They walk in THE
NATURE, wind gusts forcing Systrafoss to
curl its falling water skyward. Rain is con-
stant. Introduced tree species bend their
towering spines as wind hurries the people
toward THE NATURE. The people feel intimi-
dated by THE NATURE. The people return to
the room.
THE FARMERS: We don’t trust you.
THE STATE: But we trust you.
THE FARMERS: You have too many faces.
You change people like moods.
THE STATE: But we trust your tradition. THE
NATURE is silent.
THE FARMERS: You change people and laws.
You change people and laws could change.
The people exit the room. They walk along
the moraine and into the newly exposed bot-
tom of the glacial lagoon.
Land sags with each step.
Moss blooms in mud scat-
tered between rhyolite
and feldspar. The people
walk on moss buds. THE
NATURE measures each
footstep as tattoo, and flora
eyes these marks with curi-
ous distrust. Once trodden,
twice dry. The people re-
turn to the room.
THE STATE: You cannot
drive off-road.
THE WARDENS: Some-
times, they drive off-road.
THE TOURISTS: It looks like
a road so we drive it.
THE FARMERS: We drive
with sensitivity to round up
the sheep.
THE NATURE is silent.
THE STATE: It is not a road.
You cannot drive there.
THE TOURISTS: It is a road.
STATE: You made it a road.
It is not a road.
THE WARDENS: Define
road.
THE TOURISTS: Dessine-
moi une carte. (Make me
a map.)
THE FARMERS: You
change the laws.
THE CORPORATION: For-
get about nature; change
the cars.
THE NATURE stays omi-
nously silent.
The people exit the room.
They walk onto the glacier.
Rain slicks blue and clear ice, sprinkled with
volcanic ash, tephra, sand. The people walk
with careful steps—breath caught in throats,
in anticipation of bodies breaking on ice.
THE NATURE throws the people into relief.
The people return to the room.
THE NARRATOR: “…glacial outburst tore
through power-line structures…”
THE STATE: We don’t trust the sustainability
of your tradition.
THE FARMERS: You changed.
THE STATE: You should also.
THE FARMERS: You change your face and
your rules with frequency. How can we trust
you when you lack consistency?
THE STATE: Change is inevitable. In thirty
years, you will all be extinct.
THE NATURE seems permanent.
THE RESEARCHERS: We’re moving away
from fortress conservation.
THE PHILOSOPHERS: “What a long time the
life of a stone lasts.”
THE NATURE erupts.
THE NARRATOR: “… ice tumbling like toy
building blocks in the flood…”
The people sit in their small room—nervous
of ash fall, lava flow, jökulhlaup; they do not
notice when THE STATE exits the room. THE
STATE boards a tourist helicopter and flies
near the eruption site, eyeing new rock in the
vast destruction. THE STATE plants a flag in
the broken glacier. THE STATE, emboldened,
flies back to the room and enters. THE NA-
TURE progresses.
THE STATE: Do this.
THE LOCALS: You don’t live here. You don’t
know here. You never visit. Why should we
listen to you?
THE STATE: …
THE LOCALS: Nature is timeless.
THE STATE: Do this.
THE LOCALS: Politicians are short-term. The
goals of the politicians are also, therefore,
short-term.
THE STATE: …
THE LOCALS: When you are gone, and there
is another, we will still be here.
THE STATE: …
THE LOCALS: We will still be here. Nature is
ancient.
THE NATURE is neither timeless nor an-
cient. THE NATURE will not do what it is told,
though it may have an awareness of time, an
in-built sense of duty.
THE STATE: Do this.
The people exit the room, disgruntled. The
people walk in different directions. THE
RESEARCHERS push north through ash-
fall. THE CORPORA-
TION walks northwest
near flood-destroyed
bridge. THE STATE
wades west through
fluorine-enriched wa-
ter. THE FARMERS hulk
southwest past horse
death. THE PHILOSO-
PHERS head southeast
toward bird death. THE
TOURISTS slink east
past retreating glacial
tongue. THE WARDENS
pass northeast by
weather-ravaged hut.
THE WORKER cleans
the mess. THE NATURE
senses nonsense. The
people return to the
room.
THE WARDENS: Con-
serve, preserve, pro-
tect, save, sustain, en-
large.
THE PHILOSOPHERS:
Save? Protect?
THE RESEARCHERS:
Conserve, sustain. THE
STATE: Manage.
THE FRIENDS: Support.
THE FARMERS: Sus-
tain, grow.
THE CORPORATION:
Grow, sustain.
THE WORKER: Con-
sume.
THE LOCALS: Love.
THE PHILOSOPHERS:
Love?

The people exit the
room. The people walk through heath where
sheep graze woolly willow to non-existence.
THE NATURE erodes. The people erode into
melodrama, reflecting themselves through
apocalyptic metaphor in what surrounds
them. What surrounds them? The people
may not sense what is in them. THE NATURE
listens to authoritative voice-overs by bodi-
less men— ends of sentences dropping to
finite, terrible statements. The people return
to the room.
THE CORPORATION: Can we divert the
Kreppa?
THE NARRATOR: “… the destruction of na-
ture was immense…”
THE CORPORATION: Dessine-moi un hydro-
power dam.
THE WORKER: I used the 50-tonne digger. I
cleared the hardest path, not much space on
the mountainside. I’d strapped myself in. And
I cleared this mountain. The hardest part.
And the next day, the foreman—he rolled it.
Rolled his digger. I’d already done the hard-
est part. Strapped in. I was ready to die. So
when we meet now, the foreman and me, we
greet with the left hand. Like dead people.
THE CORPORATION: Here is money in
atonement.
THE NATURE is moved. THE NATURE moves
into the people, moves them out of the room.
Suddenly, THE NATURE realizes the vibrant
contrast between white glacier, green vege-
tation, blue lakes, red and yellow geothermal
areas, black sands and the economic lenses
of the humans. THE RESEARCHERS sense
the wealth of knowledge to discover and
disseminate. THE STATE senses opportunity
for management and ownership. THE PHI-
LOSOPHERS sense nonsense. THE TOUR-
ISTS sense aesthetic euphoria and spiritual
aphasia. THE FARMERS sense the potential
for agriculture. THE CORPORATION senses
the potential for development. THE WAR-
DENS sense damage done. THE WORKER
senses the ability to subsist. THE NATURE
has greater sensitivity than the people real-
ize. The people return to the room.
THE RESEARCHERS: You’re missing the
point.
THE FRIENDS: Tourism makes money.
THE FARMERS: Where is money for local
product?
THE STATE: Here is money for infrastructure.
THE WARDENS: Where is money for educa-
tion?
THE CORPORATION: Here is money. Hush,
hush.
THE RESEARCHERS: Where is money for re-
search?
THE FRIENDS: Here is money for research
and education.
THE TOURISTS: Do I give my money? Where
do I give my money?
THE PHILOSOPHERS: Do you take that mon-
ey? Why do you take that money?
THE LOCALS: In our small room, everyone
plays more than one role.
The people walk on THE NATURE, through
black sand patched with green moss. The
people do not notice the delicacy of THE
NATURE. The people walk through sand-
storm, rainstorm, windstorm, snowstorm,
and they raise their voices debating money,
infrastructure, power, laws, ownership. Their
argument overwhelms the soundscape, and
yet the loudest voice is the silence of THE
NATURE.
THE NATURE howls silence into their doom.
THE FARMERS become extinct. THE STATE
changes its face. THE PHILOSOPHERS be-
come THE LOCALS. THE LOCALS change
their points of view. THE RESEARCHERS
become THE FRIENDS. THE WORKER ex-
changes power for money. THE CORPORA-
TION becomes THE NARRATOR. THE TOUR-
ISTS change their travel plans. THE NATURE
listens to the constant voiceless alto of river
rush as swans trumpet their arrival.
HOW TO MANAGE A CONSERVATION CONVERSATION
A one-act play about community communication
Words
a.rawlings
Illustration
Megan Herbert
Mountaineers of Iceland • Skútuvogur 12E • 104 Reykjavík • Iceland
Telephone: +354 580 9900 Ice@mountaineers.is • www.mountaineers.is • www. activity.is
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