Visions Before Marriage
(Scene: A moonlit courtyard. A large white cloth is stretched between two trees—used as a dream-screen. Shadows of pots, pigeons, and palmtrees are cast behind. MUHIBBA and IBRAHIM sit across from each other, with candles between them. Around them, friends listen like stars—ZAINAB, THOMPSON, FATIMA. The CHORUS hums in hush tones. It is the night of open conversation.)
MUHIBBA:
Let's talk—not of cake and clothes,
but of conflict and kindred.
What happens when I am tired of silence?
When I forget how to smile?
IBRAHIM:
Then I will be your shadow.
Not to follow you—but to remind you the sun exists.
THOMPSON (interrupts):
No marriage survives without quarrel.
But what will quarrels sound like in your house?
Will it be thunder, or a series of sighs?
IBRAHIM:
We will argue, yes.
But our arguments shall be artful—
Not shouting matches, but debates of devotion.
ZAINAB (to MUHIBBA):
And when children come?
Or don't?
What are your names for emptiness?
MUHIBBA:
Then we will raise gardens.
Or philosophies.
Or orphans.
Or new traditions.
(Pause. FATIMA tosses a gourd gently between her palms.)
FATIMA:
And money?
What of the harsh rhythm of economy?
Shall you live in poems alone?
IBRAHIM:
We shall trade in value.
Not illusion of wealth.
We will build—modest, mutual, slow.
Our cryptocurrency is character.
(The CHORUS leans forward and sings quietly.)
Chorus (chant):
Talk before wedding, like rain before planting.
Test the tongue, measure the silence.
For love with no dialogue is a boat without paddles.
MUHIBBA (to IBRAHIM):
I am not always strong.
Some days I am ash, not fire.
IBRAHIM:
Then I shall be wind.
To gather your ash, not blow it away.
To hold what remains when you've burnt everything.
(They stand. She places her scarf on his shoulder. He removes his cap and places it in her lap. Ritual exchange.)
THOMPSON:
I see now.
This is not romance.
This is ritual resistance against generational errors.
(ZAINAB begins to drum softly. FATIMA joins. The CHORUS begins to rise in dance again.)
Chorus (sings in spiral):
Marriage is not the end of talking,
It is the dawn of deeper dialogues.
Let this union walk with wisdom,
Not just dance with dresses.
(The two lovers raise hands and circle each other gently, as if mapping the future. Light fades to candle-glow.)
BLACKOUT.
End of Act Four.