Wadjda

FADE IN:

1 INT. SCHOOL AUDITORIUM (SAUDI ARABIA)- DAY 1

A group of 11 YEAR-OLD GIRLS stand in three rows on a homemade

wooden stage. A banner reads, "The Secondary Fourth

School for Girls-Riyadh East." A TEACHER eyes them

skeptically.

TEACHER:

Again, from the beginning.

She pushes "play" on a small tape recorder on the floor.

CHORUS OF GIRLS:

It's time for Jihad; it's the only

choice. The war is boiling,

calling.

The front row has four girls, one of whom is WAJDA, (11),

cute face with big, smart eyes.

They all sing in tune except for her. She's looking away

singing absentmindedly, missing most of the words.

Wajda watches two older girls, FATIN and FATIMA, pass by.

Wajda waves to them as she sings.

She looks at the teacher, now scowling at her, tucks her

hands in her pocket and tries to follow the other girls. They

all look similar except for Wajda.

The SONG halts abruptly as the teacher hits "Stop" on the

tape recorder. The girls' voices trail off.

2.

TEACHER:

Wajda! Step to the front, please.

Wajda makes her way out of the rows of girls. NOURA, (11), a

sweet and perfect type, bumps into her, smiles and fills her

place in the front line. Wajda stands in front of the line of

girls alone.

TEACHER (CONT’D)

Why don’t you show us all how well

you sing? Start with the first

verse.

Wajda becomes very nervous. Her face reddens and she stares

hard at the floor, she tries to sing, but her mouth clamps

tight.

TEACHER (CONT’D)

Well? If you don’t want to share

that “beautiful” voice of yours

with us...

The teacher gestures towards the tape recorder.

Wajda stares at the floor as she sits down next to the tape

recorder, scowling.

The line is much more unified now. The Teacher smiles with

satisfaction then glares at her.

TEACHER (CONT’D)

Well?!

Like a professional DJ, Wajda's hand rewinds the tape, stops

it and hits "Play" all in one motion.

THE CHORUS OF GIRLS

It's time for Jihad; it's the only

choice. The war is boiling,

calling. The horses are prepared;

the battle will start. War heals

wounds way better than suppressing

anger. If our religion is

humiliated, heaven calls and our

fate is written. Where are the

proud men to answer the calls?

Allhu Akbar is our song; It is our

light and the fire we fight with!

THE CHORUS CONTINUES THROUGH THE TITLES

STATIC BLENDS OVER THE SONG LIKE A RADIO TUNING TO ANOTHER

CHANNEL and then...

3.

A RAUCOUS ROCK SONG STARTS!

2 INT. WAJDA'S ROOM - DAY 2

In her small, sparsely decorated room between a single bed

and a window covered completely with wallpaper, Wajda hits

"record" on her tape recorder as the ROCK SONG continues.

Dancing and moving to the beat, she insures that a cord from

the window is properly connected to the radio antennae.

She writes down the song on a track list labeled "Wajda's

Awesome Mix Tape, Vol. 7." Next, she counts out homemade

bracelets and puts them in small plastic bags. Finally, she

puts on her black converse high-tops with colored laces.

As she waits for the ROCK SONG to end, she looks through the

half open door to her MOTHER, busy drying her hair.

3 INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY 3

WAJDA'S MOTHER (33), struggles with a broken hair-dryer as

she straightens her beautiful long hair. She is petite, with

a definite sparkle in her eye, but right now she’s

frustrated. The brush becomes too hot and she quickly dries

the rest of her hair without it.

4 INT. WAJDA'S ROOM - DAY 4

Wajda takes some money from a drawer and puts it in her

pocket. She hits "Stop" on the tape recorder and runs out.

5 INT. LIVING ROOM/KITCHEN - DAY 5

Wajda's Mother twists her hair and adds colored clips. She

moves to the kitchen and adds cups of cardamom and coffee to

boiling water in an old pot. Outside a car HONKS its horn.

In rapid motions, her Mother takes the over-boiling coffee,

puts it in a thermos and grabs her notebooks.

Wajda enters, drops her backpack and hurries behind, carrying

the rest of her Mother's supplies.

The Mother grabs keys from a hook by the entrance. A string

of blue prayer beads fall to the floor. She puts them back on

the hook, pulls her veil over her face and turns to Wajda.

4.

MOTHER:

Don't forget your key, and don't

lock the upper lock. Your Father

may be coming later after his night

shift.

6 EXT. FRONT OF WAJDA'S HOUSE - DAY 6

A Pakistani Driver, IQBAL, (late 20’s), squats in front of an

old van, sticking the broken headlights on with tape. He

turns as Wajda and her Mother emerge.

IQBAL:

(In broken Arabic, bossy)

It very long way, Madame! Other

teachers we are taking, very long

way. You late every day! No taking

you late.

WAJDA:

She's not late! You just came! I

saw you - five minutes not even!

IQBAL:

I no talk to you little girl, I

talk to your Mother, she is late!

Iqbal enters the car and slams the door. A picture of a cute,

smiling child wearing traditional Indian dress with flowers

in her hair, falls to the car’s floor. Iqbal picks up the

picture and cleans it carefully then puts it back on the

car’s counter.

MOTHER:

Don't worry about him. Okay, yalla

bye!

(to Iqbal) )

No problem, Iqbal. You take lots of

money; let's have some quiet for

the long drive.

She takes her things from Wajda and quickly enters the van.

The bus jolts away. Wajda is about to walk back into the

house when the minivan swerves to avoid an oncoming car,

almost crashing into it. She watches until it disappears,

worried for her Mother.

7 INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY 7

Wajda grabs her backpack, stopping by the mirror. She looks

at herself and touches her hair, then puts on her abbayah.

5.

8 EXT. THE NEIGHBORHOOD STREETS - DAY 8

Concrete houses line the street. All the windows are covered

in aluminum. A typical middle class neighborhood in Riyadh,

Saudi Arabia.

Groups of girls walk to school, completely covered in

abbayahs and veils, distinguishable only by their different

backpacks. Taxis and minivans pass by full of covered women

in black.

Wajda exits her gate and walks towards school. Suddenly a

rock flies by her feet and knocks a soda can from its place.

She looks up to see her FATHER (35), smiling and tossing

another rock up in the air, playfully.

Dark and handsome with short soft black hair and a well

groomed mustache, he wears a worn-out blue oil-man’s uniform.

FATHER:

Watch this!

He flings the rock towards another can just past her on the

wall. She ducks but looks over to see the can fly from its

place. Wajda searches and picks up another rock.

WAJDA:

Oh yeah, check this out!

Full of bravado, she flings the rock at a milk carton near

his feet but it falls short and BOUNCES off target.

FATHER:

Ha! Keep practicing. You're getting

there!

WAJDA:

Look who's back! Where have you

been?

She smiles, runs and gives him a big hug.

FATHER:

Oof. Look at this.

He pulls out a shiny black rock from his pocket.

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