The Process

Taking on the Israeli/Palestinian catastrophe (which is also the English translation of Nakba) is no small feat. I began writing this play in the year 2000, with Dorit Rivlin-Rak, who had come to me with a concept and asked for help fleshing it out. Dorit envisioned it as a performance piece with two women, in their kitchens going about their daily rounds; making the same food, doing laundry, reading the paper -essentially doing the things women do everyday. Tasks that are part of the natural order of things in a woman's world. At one point Dorit (also an amazing actor) had an Iranian actor friend fly in from L.A. to play the Palestinian role. The rehearsals were intense. The Muslim and the Jew moving past all commonality (Islam and Judaism are so similar, after all) to find the rage, the fear and the grief created by tragic, historical misunderstanding. I was moved but also shaken by what came out of those workshops. Ultimately, Dorit wanted to direct the piece, so she brought in Cynthia Straus ( to play the Israeli,) whom I met at that time. For some reason, Dorit and I set the project aside. She soon returned to Israel and it remained in a file buried under others for a decade. When Operation Cast Lead devastated the Gaza Strip in 2008/9, I dug out the notebooks and began a draft, keeping Dorit's concept and the monologues we had written together, at the core of the play. I laughed and cried as I wrote - certain parts rolled off my pen as I tapped deep into my subconscious; my buried and ingrained Jewishness. The long and tragic history written in my DNA. I had long believed the Palestinians were the remnant who had stayed in the land after Rome enslaved so many of us; selling us into an endless and heartbreaking Exile. Much longer than the Babylonian Diaspora which lasted less than a century. Living in New Mexico most of my adult life has also brought me in close contact with Crypto-Jewry, the descendants of Sephardi conversos. I approached the character of the Palistinian woman (whom I named Amirah) from this point of view. I drew on my historical knowledge of the territory the Greeks and Romans called Palestina, after the Philistines who occupied Gaza in Biblical times. I thought about the invaders who came later; the Crusaders and Islamic armies of the Prophet. I considered their influence; both the brutal imposition of their creeds, but also the good that they brought. My Palestinian characters were born from this place. This consideration. One day, after I'd completed the third draft, I ran into Cynthia Straus. I asked her to read it, in hopes I could have her play Tamara, a role written with her in mind, because of her history with the project. We spent a couple of months working before bringing in Ana Chavez a New Mexican with roots in Spain. I felt that she could identify with Amirah totally. I was determined to cast the play with actors who came from diverse racial backgrounds; specifically from people who had known genocide, exile and both collective and /or personal suffering. The actors in the cast of The Land are Native American, Hispanic, Anglo, Palestinian, Israeli, Chinese and American Jews. The role of Ahmed took longest to cast-no one wanted to play him. He was too hot to touch. Finally Christopher Heron appeared. Christopher comes from a theatrical family background and is a fabulously gifted actor. He also spent time in Morocco and was familiar with Islamic culture. Khalil Khweis who plays his father, was comfortable with him right away. A good sign. Khalil's niece, Majdolene Khweis (her parents, Ziad and Heyam were my Palestinian consultants while writing) was early on, picked to play Leila, Amirah's daughter. The actor who was to play Daniel, dropped out at the last minute, so Gus Chinlund (originally one of the IDF soldiers) replaced him. Two days later Gus' mother passed away. It was as if the intensity of the piece was but a microcosm of the macrocosm of the collective human drama. Gus brought his grieving into the part and gave Daniel depth and weight. There was a bittersweet irony to these circumstances. Cynthia (who as Tamara is mother to Daniel) and Gus (both with Chicago/NY) backgrounds have been close friends since they were teenagers. She was able, both as friend and actor, to ground and anchor the sensitive situation. My daughter Genevieve was cast as Catherine, an American, Christian journalist who falls in love with Ahmed. She also plays the role of the Shekinah, the feminine aspect of G-d In Exile. Mother and daughter working together on the most mundane level can be a challenge, but asking your daughter, the actor , to go to the deepest parts of herself can become a war in itself. I called in Arron Shiver whom I had tried to coax into playing Ahmed prior to Christopher's arrival, to work with Cynthia and Genevieve, coaching them and helping develop their characters. I also brought in David Behrstock to co-direct (I'd never directed a play) and to play the role Gus had vacated. Alan Tafoya had long been committed to the role of the fierce, Druze soldier, Anpo Cash and Krystyna Siebenaler were cast as Chorus members who also play the roles of Sarah and Hagar in a scene with the Shekinah. As we rehearsed, the emotional fallout from the play began to manifest in personal dramas. Our band of cast and crew grew to resemble the Israeli/Palestine crisis in miniature. There is no way to take on this issue day in, day out without it affecting one's entire life. Even as we all understood what was happening, the process was not without moments of total insanity - escalating tempers and outbursts were not uncommon toward the end of our rehearsal period. But the show must go on. And it did because the passion and commitment of this cast was unquestionable and I could not have done this without them. I think when we go back to rehearse a few revisions, it'll be a lot smoother, but one can't expect to inhabit these characters and their worlds, without taking on a few of their traits which are rooted in centuries of conflict. I know, because as I wrote them, I went through every single emotion that they bear.