A Dry White Season Page #5

LEWINSON:

(to client)

Sorry.

He dials a number.

INT. DAN PIENAAR SCHOOL -STAFF ROOM -DAY

Tea break for the teachers, Ben among them. He is enjoying

a laugh with his colleagues --maybe in Afrikaans -we

should hear the language here where we need not comprehend.

An African serves the tea.

There's a KNOCK --a monitor comes in and talks to Ben

who follows him outside.

INT. SCHOOL -DAY

Ben at the phone.

BEN:

Hello, Dan... No... it's all

right...

INT. LEWINSON'S OFFICE -DAY

LEWINSON:

I'm sorry. They have just

officially informed me. The boy

was never in detention. He died

... the day of the riots and

as nobody came to claim the corpse

he was buried a month ago.

INT. SCHOOL -DAY

Ben at the phone.

(CONTINUED)

22.

CONTINUED:

BEN:

Thanks a lot, Dan... I'll tell

Gordon. 'Bye.

Ben hangs up and stays there... thinking... until the

BELL snaps him out of his thoughts.

EXT. DAN PIENAAR SCHOOL -PLAYING FIELDS -DAY

The playing fields, not of Eton but as good as...

... Cries and whistles rise through the still, warm air

from a game of schoolboy rugby being played below us by

immaculately-fitted teams.

On another part of the field Gordon's lawnmower off to

the side --two figures pace --slowly --one white, one

black -

A VOICE overlays all this... strange... ironically

African.

GORDON:

Mister Ben, sir. If it was me,

all right. And if it was Emily,

all right. We are not young. But

he's out child. My time and your

time, it's passing. But the time

of our children is coming. And

now if they kill our children -if

we let them --what is it that

we lived for?

BEN:

(places a hand on

Gordon's shoulder -comforting)

What can we do, Gordon? You or

I... We can't change it.

GORDON:

That day, Mr. Ben, sir, when they

whipped Jonathan, you also said we

can do nothing. But if we had...

if someone heard what we had to say

this would not have happened.

BEN:

It's a terrible thing, Gordon -God

knows I'm sorry. But you have

other children to live for... I'll

help them too with their schooling.

(CONTINUED)

23.

CONTINUED:

GORDON:

(interrupting)

How did he die, Mister Ben, sir?

BEN:

I told you, Gordon... He died on

the day of the riots.

GORDON:

That's what they say. But I got

to know for certain. How can I

have peace? I must know how my

son died and where they buried

him.

The game on the next pitch finishes with a pierce of the

whistle. The kids run off past Ben and Gordon. Gordon

climbs onto the small lawn mower and STARTS the ENGINE.

BEN:

Gordon. The police --if they've

said...

GORDON:

I don't care what they say. He is

my child. God is my witness today:

I cannot stop before I know what

happened and where he lies. His

body belongs to Emily and me.

And drives away --chugging across the field... leaving

Ben --helpless --behind him --watching.

From his:

OFFICE WINDOW:

in the school behind --a worried headmaster watches.

We hear his voice over.

CLOETE (V.O.)

... This business of Gordon's son.

Be careful, Ben. These are not

normal times --one has to make

allowances.

CUT TO:

EXT. CAR PARK

The car park. He and Ben are getting into their cars at

the end of the day.

(CONTINUED)

24.

CONTINUED:

BEN:

Don't worry! I'm no crusader.

I've known Gordon a long time,

that's all.

CLOETE:

I understand --it's your

Christian duty to your neighbor.

BEN:

Something like that --yes.

CLOETE:

Just don't get too close.

Teachers must stay out of

politics. Love to Susan!

And drives off, leaving Ben watching him, shaking his

head at the man's obtuseness.

EXT. NGUBENE HOUSE -LATE AFTERNOON

Emily is watering a tiny vegetable plot in the yard, with

a bucket and a pierced tin.

Robert is playing nearby with the youngest child.

Robert sees Gordon walking slowly to their house and says

playfully to the baby:

ROBERT:

Look who's coming? It's baba!

Emily turns to look. She immediately realizes that something

is wrong. She drops the tin and walks a few steps

toward the gate.

Gordon sees her and stops.

Emily starts to break down.

EMILY:

Oh, no... oh no, Lord.

Gordon hurries to embrace her.

EMILY:

(sobbing and repeating)

Please don't tell me...

Gordon starts to lead her to the house.

Margaret, Emily's neighbor, comes, hurries, helps her,

comforts her, escorting them to the house.

25.

EXT. SOWETO MAIN ROAD -DAY

Stanley and Gordon are driving along Soweto main road.

A 10-years-old BOY stops the car.

INT. STANLEY'S CAR -DAY

BOY:

(to Stanley)

Baba, I heard you're looking for

Wellington. He's out, Baba.

STANLEY:

Where is he? Where is he?

BOY:

He's with some boys at Dube's

shop.

STANLEY:

Thank you very much. You've

worked like a man.

(turning to Gordon)

Let's go.

Stanley turns the car round and drives off at speed.

EXT. DUBE'S SHOP -DAY

Wellington and a few pals are standing outside the shop

--they greet Stanley as they see the car --Stanley

shouts back greeting.

STANLEY:

Take it easy, boys. Hey

Wellington!

Wellington comes to the car. He's limping, wearing

sunglasses.

As he's approaching the car, Stanley opens the back door

for him.

He enters and removes the glasses.

Stanley notices a deep scar from the forehead to the

cheek.

STANLEY:

What happened... Don't tell me...

GORDON:

Did they do that to you?

(CONTINUED)

26.

CONTINUED:

Wellington has a nervous arm-twitch... and nods to the

question.

GORDON:

(anxiously)

I want to know what happened to

Jonathan.

WELLINGTON:

Isn't he out yet?

(pause)

I last saw him weeks ago.

STANLEY:

Jonathan is dead.

GORDON:

I have to know how he died.

INT. BEN'S DINING ROOM

Sizette and Chris with the family at dinner. Suzette is

passed the Rand Daily Mail newspaper by Chris, folded at

an article headlined: "WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO JONATHAN

NGUBENE?" by Melanie Bruwer.

SUSAN:

Isn't that tragic? Jonathan was

such a nice boy. Even played with

my Johan when they were small,

God.

BEN:

And he was such a nice boy, well-

mannered.

SUSAN:

You said he was very bright at

school.

Chris helps himself to more. Suzette looks at the paper.

SUZETTE:

Well, this kind of journalism

doesn't help the situation. Look

at her face? What does she look

like?

CHRIS:

The Rand Daily Mail always

exaggerates.

(CONTINUED)

27.

CONTINUED:

She passes the paper to Ben. He looks at Melanie's picture:

she looks 30 years old, long black hair, large

dark eyes with a fierce, unsettling, uncompromising stare,

a small nose and a generous and sensual mouth.

BEN:

Looks quite attractive to me.

Chris and Johan laugh.

BEN:

(he surveys the

article; then with

a serious tone)

'... Is only the latest in scores

of black youths who have

disappeared whilst in police

custody.'

CHRIS:

What does she expect? They're out

of control. Give then an inch and

they take a hundred miles. It's

in their nature. The only

language they understand is force.

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