Judith English writings

Judith

Állandó Tag
<o>> </o><o></o><o></o><o></o><o></o><o></o><o></o><o></o><o></o><o></o><o></o>>
REST IN PEACE IN KANAGA<o></o>>
Or the bizarre 79%<o></o>>
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Scene One<o></o>>
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Albert: (a grubby man in his early fifties, wearing a dirty overall is sitting in a torn Lazy Boy chair on his front porch. He is reading an official looking letter. Appearing upset he slams down his bottle of beer.)

Shit! Shit! Shit! They cut me off welfare! Just like that! Why? After spending twenty-seven years watching the re-runs of Ponderosa? In whose interest is it to stop investing in my meagre existence now?
<o></o>>
(He turns to the tabby tomcat licking his paws on the porch rail,)
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Would you believe it, I'm told to get a job. <o></o>>
<o></o>>
(Hysterically he slaps his forehead with his palm)
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A job! At my age! With my experience! Hah! Remember when a few years ago I was offered a job as a school crossing guard? Oh, wasn't it hilarious when I chased the dirty brats across the street with the baseball bat?<o></o>>
<o></o>>
(He chuckles)
<o></o>>
The hollering of the parents! Not to mention Mrs. Wailer, the school-trustee,
<o></o>>
(He is mimicking her in a high pitched voice, pretending to teeter in a high heel shoe)<o></o>>
<o></o>>
"Mr. Albert D. McNobb, don't you ever dare to show your face around the school yard again. Just get back to your dirty house and keep watching your silly program for the rest of your life. You hear me?"
<o></o>>
(He raises the bottle to salute the cat and roaring, he continues in his own voice)<o></o>>
<o></o>>
That was a sight, all right! Ever since then the town was happy to send me my monthly checks. Just to keep me off the street! Well, too bad that the good old days are over..
<o></o>>
(He takes another swig out of the beer bottle, then gets up and walks toward the corner, where a pile of old issues of dirty newspapers is lying around. He bends down and picks up the latest Guardian from on the top of the file. He starts flipping through it when an add catches his eyes.)
<o></o>
<o></o>

What's this? You must be joking! A job adds in the local rag? I haven't seen one in the past four years! Whoa! Somebody around has money to burn. An 800 number? Must be for a government job. Let's see.
<o></o>>
<table class="MsoNormalTable" style="margin-left: 6pt; border-collapse: collapse;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody><tr style=""> <td style="border: 2.55pt double windowtext; padding: 0in 6pt; width: 6.5in;" valign="top" width="624"> "Are you a proud Kanagian? <o></o>>
Do you believe our country is overpopulated by foreigners? <o></o>>
If the answer is yes, and you have never met a refugee before, apply to be a Refugee Board Member. <o></o>>
No lawyers, refugee advocates, and pinkos of any kind need to apply. Remuneration is based on your lack of experience on the field."
Call for an application: 1-800-KANAGA
</td> </tr> </tbody></table>
<o></o>>
Albert: (to the cat)
<o></o>>
Well! See if I get this: I have never met a wha'-cha'-me-call-it, <o></o>>
<o></o>
(He looks to check the add)
<o></o>>
Ah, a refugee,- in my life, and I am neither a lawyer nor any other kind of advocate, whatever perversion that is. So I guess I'm more than qualified for the position. As to the number of a Party membership card! Didn't I inherit one from my maternal grandfather, Paulus McNoodle with a swastika engraving? I seem to recall seeing it in the cellar, right under the empty beer bottles. Hey cat, you want to see it? Have a sip of beer with me. Be my guest! There!

(And he dumps the rest of the bottle on top of the cat, who jumps up and runs away, loudly complaining. Albert picks up the phone and dials.)
<o></o>>
About this add. Send me an application, will you? The name is Albert D. McNobb, in the town of <st1:city><st1>Little-Black-Current</st1> </st1:city>. Yeah, in the <st1><st1:placetype>province</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Rednicks</st1:placename></st1>l. That's correct.
<o></o>
<o></o>>
Scene two <o></o>>
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An expensive Hotel on the other side of the River, where the training sessions are taking place for the new members of the Refugee Board. Albert is sitting in one of the conference rooms wearing a brand new three piece suit and sticking out his feet in front of him admires his face in his new shiny shoe.
<o></o>>
Mr. Harder: (the newly appointed deputy minister of Immigration, a youngish looking blonde man, with a sweet and pink complexion)
<o></o>>
Let me introduce our next speaker, the new Minister of Immigration, the Honourable Mr. Lyncher. He'll be talking about all the necessary changes in the Kanagian Immigration policies that the Deformed Party is ready to implement since they won the last election.
<o></o>>
The Honourable Mr. Lyncher: (a tall man in his late sixties, wearing a black three piece suit, tight west, padded shoulders, a string tie and a large Stetson hat. A big silver buckle sporting a bullhorn holds up his pants, and his leaking depends.)
<o></o>>
Weeell, folks, as youu remember, the Kanaagian Refugee Board was oriiginally set up by the Conservatives waay back in Niinteen Eighty Eight. And sooome of the members, who were fiiirst appointed prooved to be quiite gullible. Theey belieeved the stories of peeople arriving from all over the universe, being peersecuted, toortured and harassed. And the nuumbers of acceptance reveealed this. It amounted to a bizaarre 79 percent. Faaar above the internaaational norm! Our country becaame the laughing stock of the Kneeew-Kniiighted-Nations, and given the nickname Guuullible Kanaga. The Deeeformed Party is of the opiiinion that it was duue to the poor selection of the booard members, sooome who were aaactually fooormer refugees themselves; or laaawyers; or laymen, preeeviously working with refugees. Aaall in all, it is cleear that their expeeeriences must have clooouded their judgements. . .
<o></o>
(Albert, smiling smugly is seen nodding his head in agreement.)
<o></o>>
Scene three

An office located on Back Street, in Hogtown, where after completing the training sessions in appropriate eating, drinking and shopping, Albert was finally situated in. With one hand gently holding the paper cup of his morning dose of poison, Albert checks his schedule for who his partner was going to be on this case. He makes a face, and with a nervous twitch spills his coffee.)
<o></o>
Albert:
Oh, no! Not Mrs. Softy, the Social Worker! Just my luck! She will tell me all about her experiences dealing with the destitute!<o></o>>
<o></o>>
(Cursing, he tries to wipe off the growing dark stains on the file cover with the sleeve of his brand new robe. And in order to calm his nerves he gulps down a dozen pills, lubricating it with the rest of his poisonous brew.) <o></o>>
<o></o>>
Now I am stuck with her, just because she is the cousin of Mr. Lyncher, who couldn't afford to have a relation living on social benefit anymore either. Not after proclaiming that any Social Service was the work of the Devil! <o></o>>
<o></o>>
(As he must have some idea where his first client is claiming refugee status from, Albert, rolling his eyes, forces himself to read the file. )
<o></o>>
A twenty-six year old male from Lewdonia. Lewdonia???
"Isobella!" -(he shouts at his secretary) - "where the hell is Lewdonia? Why didn't you include the country profile with his file?"
<o></o>>
Isobella: (wearily lifting her freshly manicured hands and bringing them close to her eyes, inspected the result with a bored yawn,)

"It should be with the rest of them, on top of your filing cabinet."
<o></o>>
Albert: (muttering under his breath while picking up the ringing phone)
<o></o>>
I could smother the high-pitched mail- sorter, that I had been inflicted by the KRB, as a secretary.
<o></o>>
Case Clerk:
Mr. McKnob, the claimant and his counsel are ready.
<o></o>>
Albert: (donning on the official multi coloured checkered robe and purple wig of his religious order, strides toward the hearing room. He stops before entering to make the sign of a triangle with his hands and then turns around three times on his heels, then spits across his left shoulder while chanting his mantra)
<o></o>>
"May Locust protect us from the scums of the Universe"
<o></o>>
Just then his partner arrives and hissing greetings at each other from a safe distance they proceed to walk into the room and sit down on the chairs located behind a barrier on top of a raised platform. Everybody is standing at attention until the panel graciously allowed them to sit, and the hearing officially begun as the chairing person, Mr. Albert D. McNobb turns on the recording machine.
<o></o>>
Albert: (trumpets into the microphone)
<o></o>>
"This is a claim of Mr. Susan A. Gabor, who claims refugee status on the grounds of political opinion, and race,"
<o></o>>
(Glancing up he notices that the claimant's head, one eye, mouth, both hands and feet are bandaged over, except for two fingers on his right hand; and that the interpreter was wearing a pair of dark glasses over her face and has a white cane in her right hand.)

"As interpreter of the day Ms. Mary Vack is used for her expertise as special communicator in sign language," Albert continues with the introduction of the case, "Mr. A. Voltaire, a Barrister and Solicitor represents the claimant; and Ms. Fraser acts as a Refugee Hearing Officer."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser: (an incurable flirt, showing a long pair of satin pink panties, reaching to her knees, that her short skirts not quite covered is reading from the documents provided to her by Mr. Voltaire.)

According to the Country Profile, Lewdonia is under Bismal occupation. The new emperor calling himself the Great Lewdon has implemented new laws for administration. Birth registration began, houses were to be numbered, streets named, and males at the age of eighteen are conscripted into the Bismal-Lewdonian Army. Serving time is thirty years. Hence: Males were registered under female names.
<o></o>>
Mr. Susan A. Gabor, the person claiming refugee status, entered Kanaga on <st1:date month="8" day="26" year="1989">August 26, 1989</st1:date>, at the <st1><st1:placename>Pearcing</st1:placename> <st1:placename>International</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Airport</st1:placetype></st1>, using false papers, false beard, impersonating a Napoleonic Army General.
According to Amnesty International the new Bismal-Lewdonian criminal code contains the following:
<o></o>>
Theft is punishable by amputation of the left hand.
Gossiping is punishable by cutting off the tip of the tongue.
Defection from the Army brings crucifixion.
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire: (an elderly, lanky man, who wears a black robe and a large powdered wig with a bored expression, and is in a habit of sneezing after stuffing a pinch of tobacco to his nostrils from a small silver box. He starts questioning the claimant in a monotone tone)

"Mr. Susan A. Gabor, which is your first name?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:<o></o>>
"Susan."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"Isn't it a girl's name?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"It is common in my country to use girls' name for males, especially since the sixteenth Pretender of Lewdon the Great came to the throne."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"How so?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"He brought in a new law of birth registration for the purpose of conscription. So in order to avoid serving in the Bismal Army, all males are registered under a girl's name."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"What do you mean by all males? You mean to tell me no Lewdonian males are now registered under male names?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"That's correct, sir. Not since the new law came to pass."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"And why wouldn't you want to serve in the army? Don't you want to protect your country from the enemy?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Sir, this army is not set up to protect my country. My country is Lewdonia and I'm proud to be a Lewdonian. But this army is the Bismal Army, which is set up to protect the Bismal Empire, and used as a punishment to regulate the Lewdonians. We are forced to serve for thirty years. Who is going to take care of our sheep and women in the meantime?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"Mr. Su..., I mean Mr. Gabor, your country is under attack by a foreign army. Don't you want to protect your civilized country from the hoards of the Huns?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Sir, Lewdonians are eagerly waiting for the Huns. Maybe you are not aware of it, but the Lewdonians are the proud descendants of Attila the Hun. As a matter of fact, the initial A. stands for Attila, and all Lewdonian males have Attila for a middle name. And if Napoleon would help us to overthrow the Bismal Empire, we will add Napoleon to our names as well."
<o></o>>
Ms. Vack: (the interpreter interrupts at this point):<o></o>>
<o></o>>
"Mr. McNobb, would you please direct the claimant to speak a little slower, as I can't possibly translate as fast as he talks."

Albert:
"Mr. Susan A. Gabor, in order to make an educated and fair decision in your case it's imperative to get the correct information from you. So please slow down in order that the interpreter can adequately translate every word you utter. Carry on with the questioning, counsel,"
<o></o>>
Mrs. Softy: (Puzzled, turns toward Albert, whispering)

"But he hasn't said a word yet. I mean, it is a funny way of communicating. Aren't we supposed to have an oral hearing?"
<o></o>>
Albert: (who just realized, that until this very minute the voice that he recorded so attentively was only the interpreter's, and not the claimant's. Instead, he used only his two un-bandaged fingers for communication by tapping Morse signals on the table. Nodding in agreement he voices the concern)
<o></o>>
"My colleague just pointed out, that this is an unusual hearing. Would counsel care to explain his client's way of giving evidence?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire: (rising from his chair takes his time for a good sneeze before his comment)
<o></o>>
"Mr. Chairperson, Honourable Board Member, under the current legislation the Immigration Act under 71.1(4) requires only that”
"A hearing into the claim shall be held in the presence of the claimant."
71.1(5) directs us that:
"At the hearing into the claim, the Refugee Division<o></o>>
(a) shall afford the claimant a reasonable opportunity to present evidence, cross-examine witnesses and make representations;
"I believe that under the circumstances all of these opportunities are provided. The claimant is able to give evidence in a manner that is understood, on which the Refugee Division can make an educated decision."

Both Members were busy looking at the Act. When the appropriate clause was found, they nodded in agreement.
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire :( continues his question, after taking a brief pause to take another pinch of tobacco from his silver box).
<o></o>>
"Mr. Gabor, can you tell us what happened to you, after you were conscripted into the Army?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Well, they sent me to a special unit, where I was given special training."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"What kind of training?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"I was supposed to gather information on the enemy."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"Why were you chosen for this type of work?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"They couldn't use me for the regular army, because of my hand. Also, because of my education, they thought I would be more useful as a spy."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"What happened to your hand?"

Mr. Gabor:
"Which one?” (He lifts both of them at the same time)
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"The one that you mentioned earlier. The reason, why you couldn't be used in the regular army. "
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Oh, the left hand! It was an accident. Happened in the Academy."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"Yes, I noticed that you attended the Shepherd Academy of Fine Arts. What were you learning there?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Sheep-management, accounting, and fine arts."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"Where was the Academy located?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"In the town of Shadarada-Bukfenc."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"Tell us the circumstances of your forceful conscription."
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"About a year ago the Army came around and gathered every student together on campus. They came well prepared."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"What do you mean by that?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"About twenty‑five soldiers, well dressed in uniform, with shiny guns came around followed by gypsy musicians, and a whole bunch of girls. The music began, then the wine bottles were making the rounds, then the dancing started . . . Anyway, by the time I came around the next day with a huge hangover, I was already conscripted, and on my way to Vipera, the capital of Bismal."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
“Were you ever told why you were chosen to become a spy?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Apparently I had been observed for quite some time on campus by undercover agents, and was deemed to have the aptitude for the job."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"How long did the training last?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"For a few weeks."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"When were you first sent behind the enemy lines?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"About a six months ago."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire:
"What were you doing there exactly?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Went to major cities, where I tried to find places to stay and observe the movements of the Napoleonic army."

Mr. Voltaire:
"I noticed here, that you were captured. Why don't you tell us the details?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Well, I was staying at this place in the city of <st1:city><st1>Lyons</st1></st1:city>, working on a double agent, when the house was surrounded, and I was caught with my pants down, so to speak. I was dragged away to the army camp, where I was questioned and tortured. Would you like to see my injuries?" The claimant tried to get up from the chair with great difficulty.
<o></o>>
Albert: (holding a handkerchief in front of his nose inquires in a hurry, as judging by the smell coming from the claimant's direction, he doesn't really want to inspect the injuries too closely).
<o></o>>
"Counsel, do you have a medical certificate that would corroborate the extent of the claimant's injuries?”
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire: (eagerly jumping up from his chair, brings the documents to the table)
<o></o>>
"Yes, Mr. Chairperson, we do. May I enter the medical report of Dr. Dracula, the chief surgeon of the Lewdonian Army as an exhibit? I have a copy of the letter for my friend as well," (suggesting the Refugee Hearing Officer).
<o></o>>
Albert:
"Medical report of Mr. Susan A. Gabor's physical condition, signed by Dr. Dracula chief surgeon accepted and filed as Exhibit C1. Counsel, please carry on."
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire :( Looking down at his desk continues):
<o></o>>
"I see on the medical report, that your left hand is missing, your right hand, except two fingers is injured, and that the tip of your tongue is clipped. Are these all the result of the tortures inflicted on you by the Napoleonic Army?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor: (tapping his fingers on the desk)
<o></o>>
"More or less,"
<o></o>>
Mr. Voltaire :( further probing)
<o></o>>
"Could you have gone back to Lewdonia, after you escaped from your torturers?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor: (tapping indignantly)
<o></o>>
"Definitely not. The clipping of the tongue means, that the enemy got important information out of me, and I would be crucified if I were returned to Lewdonia. That is the normal punishment for traitors there."
<o></o>>
`Mr. Voltaire: (turning to the Albert)
<o></o>>
"Mr. Chairperson, these are all my questions."
<o></o>>
Albert :( feeling the urge for a cigar, suggests)
<o></o>>
I think it is time to have a break. We'll be back in twenty minutes - <o></o>>
<o></o>>
(And leaves the hearing room in a hurry. Lighting his cigar under the No Smoking sign, he ponders the case.)
<o></o>>
Mrs. Softy :(sighing).
<o></o>>
"Poor kid! Thirty years serving time! How awful! The terror he must have suffered!”
<o></o>>
Albert: (blinking rapidly a few hundred times, put his little fingers in his ears, and twisted them around, wondering if he heard it correctly. Then he checks the date on his watch)

"It's not April Fools Day, is it? What on earth are you talking about? Are you totally out of your mind? Poor kid? I personally don't believe a word he is saying. What a shady character! Why, he practically has a mistress in every city he was ever stationed. Have you noticed his answer to the question of number of children? Unknown. Wheyey! Is he an impostor or what?"
<o></o>>
Mrs. Softy: (trying to offer a plausible explanation.)
<o></o>>
"I guess it went with the job. I mean, by being a spy, "
<o></o>>
Albert :( pretending not to hear it ponders aloud),
<o></o>>
"I will be interested to hear the Hearing O's questions. This spy business . . . Wouldn't he fall under the exclusion clause? I wonder who was that idiot, who gave him credible basis at the first level hearing?"
<o></o>>
Mrs. Softy: (Just to spite Albert, she comes up with another excuse)
<o></o>>
"It probably was a conceded one. Don't forget they go by countries, and Bismal-Lewdonia is definitely a refugee producing country lately. With the Napoleonic invasion and ethnic unrest . . .”
<o></o>>
Albert: (gives her an exasperated “Here we go again" look, before she could finish the sentence. Instead of arguing, he comments before they walk back to the hearing room.)
<o></o>>
"I just hope, Ms. Fraser, the Hearing Officer would be asking good, pointed questions."
<o></o>>
(Back in the hearing room Albert after turning back the tape machine, and orders the Refugee Hearing Officer,)
<o></o>>
"Ms. Fraser, please start your questions."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser: (first she bows ceremoniously toward Albert)
<o></o>>
"Thank you Mr. Chair," <o></o>>
<o></o>>
(Then turning toward the claimant, starts in a very charming, almost flirting way,)
"Now Mr. Susan Gabor, could you tell the panel what exactly did you study at the Academy?"

Mr. Gabor:
"I told you already, sheep-management, accounting, and art."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser :( challenges the claimant.)
<o></o>>
"OK, what is sheep-management?" -
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor: (explains painstakingly)<o></o>>
.
"Well, you have a bunch of sheep, and after herding them to the pasture with the help of your puli dogs, you keep an eye on them."
<o></o>>
Ms Fraser:
"Why, do they run away?"

Mr. Gabor:
"Oh, some of them have the tendency to wonder away, but the pulis bring them back."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser: (probes further.)
<o></o>>
"What about accounting?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"You have to count them once in a while, just to make sure that they were not lost or stolen or something."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser:
"Does it happen very often?"

Mr. Gabor :( looks confused
<o></o>>
"Does what happen very often?
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser:
"That they are stolen?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"You mean the sheep?"
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser: (her eyebrows knitted, she is getting edgy now.)
<o></o>>
"Of course I mean the sheep. Do they get stolen very often?" -
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"No, not too often. At least, not by me."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser: (demanding)
<o></o>>
"But in general, stealing sheep from one another, is that a common occurrence in Lewdonia?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor: (matter of factly)<o></o>>
<o></o>>
"Of course it is. Why do you think it is necessary to teach accounting? If there were no stealing, nobody would count them sheep,"
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser: (accusingly)
<o></o>>
"Did you ever steal any sheep from your neighbours?"

Mr. Gabor :( defensively)
<o></o>>
"Only, when it was absolutely necessary. But not every day,"
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser :( continues mercilessly)
<o></o>>
"According to Lewdonian Country profile, theft in Bismal-Lewdonia is punishable with the amputation of the left hand. Did you lose yours such a way?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Well, not exactly. I mean, I tried his best to fight them off . . .”

Ms. Fraser: (cocking her head in one direction, as if she had difficulty hearing)
<o></o>>
"Fight whom off?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"The porkolabs, who else?"

Ms. Fraser :( sharply)
<o></o>>
"The what?"
<o></o>>
Ms. Vack: (the Interpreter butts in)
<o></o>>
"Mr. Chairperson, the claimant means the cops."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser :( acknowledging, continues)
<o></o>>
"Oh, I see. About your forceful conscription. You testified that about twenty‑five soldiers came around, with gypsies and girls. It seems to me that you all had a very good time, dancing and drinking, and that when you woke up the next morning with a hangover, you found yourself conscripted. What do you mean by that?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Just that, I don't remember signing his name."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser:
"Now, about your special training. You testified that it lasted two weeks. Wasn't it a rather short time to be trained for such an important mission?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"But I also mentioned, that based on the informants' reports they knew that I would be capable of performing my duties.
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser:
"What were your duties exactly?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"Going behind enemy lines I were to collect information about the Army."
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser:
"And how did you go about collecting information? Where did you stay? Who did you work with?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"I stayed at the most popular brothels in each city."

Ms. Fraser:
"Brothers? You mean at the seminaries?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor:
"No, no, I mean brothels."

Ms. Vack: (The interpreter, the first time since the beginning of the hearing appeared to be puzzled: )
<o></o>>
"Mr. Chairperson, I don't know the meaning of that word, do you mind if I look it up in the dictionary?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor :( At this minute verbally interrupts in perfect English
<o></o>>
"For heaven's sake, don't you know anything? The cat-house at the red light district. Where do you think Army officers visit most often, and who do you think they will tell inside information to? We're talking about the Napoleonic Army...!"
<o></o>>
Albert: (Impatiently, without missing a beat, blasts out a warning)
<o></o>>
"Mr. Gabor, would you control yourself. No outburst like that will be tolerated. Now Ms. Fraser, please continue with your line of questioning. I would want to know, how was he discovered, and captured? "
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor: (continues verbally)
<o></o>>
"Well, I was in the middle of digging up vital military information from Lola, the double agent, when several Napoleonic Army officers decided to pay her an unexpected visit. I was overpowered, and taken to the headquarters. There, as I mentioned earlier, I was forcefully questioned, and tortured. Lola helped me to escape, because she was expecting my child.
<o></o>>
Ms. Fraser: (appears not to notice the switch of "language" and asks her final question)
<o></o>>
"What do you think would happen to you, if you were to sent back?"
<o></o>>
Mr. Gabor: (breaking out in sweat, throws himself at the Members' table)<o></o>>
<o></o>>
"Please, I beg of you, don't do that. The Lewdonians would kill me for all the sheep I stole! The Bismals will crucify me for giving out important military information and Lola would want me to marry her. I heard that Kanaga is a humanitarian country, and that you are nice to refugees."

Albert: (His voice rose, first with annoyance
<o></o>>
"Mr. Gabor, please, control yourself,"

(Then with anger, turning into anguish as the claimant fall on the floor, with a purple face)
<o></o>>
"Mr. Gabor! Mr. Gabor . . .!!!!! -

Miss Fraser: (notes the obvious)
<o></o>
"It seems, that Mr. Gabor suffered a heart attack,"
<o></o>>
(Then adds with a detached, professional tone
<o></o>>
"Should we call an ambulance or what?"
<o></o>>
Albert: (Without hesitation blurts out)
<o></o>>
"Not until I manage to clarify a few questions. After all, this could be just another ploy to rouse our sympathies! Really! What some people wouldn't try to stay in Kanaga . . .!”

<o></o>>
Scene Four<o></o>>
<o></o>>
<o></o>>
(We see Mrs. Softy dragging Albert into Mrs. Wise, the supervisor's office. She is an elegant lady in her late fifties, the wife of a well-known liberal senator. Being lectured, Albert stands in front of a huge desk, arguing.)
<o></o>>
Mrs. Wise:
Albert! You can't be serious! Given the present state of the claimant, only his body could be deported. And that is more costly than a funeral, paid by the state here, in Kanaga. We have to be practical!
<o></o>>
Albert: (throws up his hands in despair while exclaiming loudly and furiously)

Now, this is a typical reasoning of a liberal. Have you thought about what kind of message this would send to the international community? Do we want everybody in the whole wide world to send their sick and destitute to receive a free funeral here, or what? Might as well advertise, "Want to rest in peace? Claim refugee status in Kanaga!"
 

Judith

Állandó Tag
[FONT=&quot]MESSAGE TO THE PRIME MINISTER OF SKANADA FROM THE GREAT SMULLAH OF ORMAN <o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Greetings,<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]May Grinah send the prophet Muhar's camels to kick your honourable buttocks for arousing my fairly deserved malediction.<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]You dared to question my judgment, when it comes to dealing with females, the ones that don't follow Grinah's Law of dress-code? The ones that flaunt their femininity, by covering their silky hairs with thin veils under the pretext of concealment? Some even show shapely legs, or long, red fingernails, all this in fair view of the public?<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Our laws forbid women to flaunt their shapeliness in public, for the Smullan revolution needs all Orman males free of allurement. The only thing that they should desire is the word of Grinah.<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]So it is the duty of the Smullah to teach women to be chaste, by punishing the indecent ones. Do not fear, for they are normally given a few lashes on the palm, fifty or just hundred at the most, and we really are gentle, for these come from the wrist and not from the shoulder.<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]It was rumoured, that as a further form of punishment, we by the authority invested in the Smullahs did the contemptible act of legally marrying them for half an hour to a day to have our ways with them. Lies, all of them, as we only married the young and the pretty ones. We chose to beat the old and ugly ones. <o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]I understand that some went to Scanada, complaining, showing fear that some Refugee Board Members found to be reasonable.<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]I shake my fist and my beard at your general direction, oh cursed disbelievers! A few of you had the audacity to contemplate whether these acts amount to persecution, or would it be only prosecution, and one even dared to mention prostitution!<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]I'm tempted to take an official complaint to the Knew-Nited Stag-Nation of High Commissioner for Refugees for meddling with our internal laws. Understand, that you displeased the Smullahs whose job it is to remove all worldly temptations from the world of the Grinah?<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]But since the death of the great Muyatollah, we try to show good faith to the world, so some of my colleagues and I, the Great Smullah of Orman made a decision:<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Dear Scanadian Refugee Board:<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]We want you to understand our position. Our country is in a dire economic state. We lost an awful lot of our males due to persecution, coups, and to the long war against the infidels.<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]We need women, to replenish our stock. They are our most important commodity. We know Scanada's reputation around the world, always ready to assist, so we ask you politely:<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]By all means, if you must to quiet the silly critics of bleeding hearts, accept a few women refugees from Orman. But following your great long Scanadian traditions for balance try to keep only the old and ugly ones.<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Oh, and as a form of goodwill to help with our economy, don't forget to send us your surplus virgins. <o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Sincerely yours forever,<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]<o></o>>[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]THE GREAT SMULLAH OF ORMAN <o></o>>[/FONT]
 

Judith

Állandó Tag
Szép napot neked!

Irnál nekem magadról, munkádról és arról, hogy hogy jutottál ki külföldre?

Magamról és hog hogyan jutottam ki Kanadába már irtam az irodalmi rovatban Kopácsi Judith 1956-os naplója cimmel. Munkámról? 1988-1990 között két évig müködtem, mint Kanadai Menekültügyi biró. A két fenti irásom illusztrálja, hogy mi volt a véleményem akkor, de egyuttal azt is, hogy ezek miatt miért nem ujjitották meg a szerzödésemet. Különben az volt a kifogás, hogy "tapasztalataim elködösitették itélőképességemet". és ebben teljesen igazuk is volt.
 
C

csocsike

Vendég
He? Mi bajod van? Te aztán igazán tudsz mindent rólam, amit csak érdemes. Még a királynő kinevezésével szemben is pisiltél egyet-kettöt, ha jól emlékszem.


Judith en ezt a masik Juditnask irtam. Te th-s vagy o meg szotlan;)
 
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