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The Columbia Workshop, under the directionof Irving Reads, presents Babuk, a
radio version by Lester Fuller of hisplay dramatized from Guy Endor's famous book of
the same name. The year seventeennineties, the slave ship bounds on Africa
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to the French sugar plantations on theisland of Sandoming in the West Indies.
We're on this ship of death.We did already. This is the last
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time I sign on a slave runner. You'll get used to it. Then
we land tomorrow. Hey, shutup, honor, shut up. They
think we're going to eat them.White men don't eat human meat. You're
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crossing the water to the white man'sland. You'll wear golden clothes and work
in the white man's field. Yeah, golden clothes. One, I love
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you. How are you doing,Miss Glad to see you again, Sir
good, it's captain. That's sobad, Miss hard Look only thirty fives
that bird. We'll need a liveone for the field, you're said the
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book, Yes, Nat, I'msaid. For home. We're strangers here
and home is far away beyond theclouds. Remember Babuk. Remember how we
used to gather around the light oftires at home, and how we listen
to the wise men tell stories,tories about brave men. Yes, and
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I was the best storyteller in thevillage. But here in Sandeming, your
tongue is tied. The other slavesthink the devils of dumbness are in you.
Huh? Will your tongue always bebound? Babook? Why are we
slaves? If we run away,we're beaten? Will it always be like
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this? Babook? We're like beggars? Here shall we be content at the
masters? Tell us a few seascan we lift our heads alone and shout
for freedom? The others are likechildren. They click the heels in the
air for a piece of candy andforget that they're sweat waters. They came.
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Someday all this will be changed.Someday we will all rise up and
beat down our enemies. Someday someday. Or your beautiful light, let me
put my head in your lap.Your hands are soft and cool. They
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melt away my sadness, My heartlies quiet. I have just come from
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the boat. Francois, Yes,oh good, then we'll have some real
French foods to the party tonight,and says it's awful native food I've been
there for twenty years. Night,you haven't learned it. Yes, these
tropical food see I I think Iput leby nextnicity now or me he was
in Pais four years ago. Ohmy god, isn't it I'll never get
used to this climate. It isn'tnaturally. I think I will put level
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next Antoinette. And if you wantto say, what didn't Oh look at
bab based in the sun. Stopworking, ba bo so don I'm not
I shot ba Boo. You almostsee it isn't looking Stop You're right,
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Babo. Don't listen to these foolYou know, bab Boo. If you
work all the time, the masterwill be sure to see you. He'll
get ahead, bay book, you'llgo far and the Master will be very
proud of you. He'll say,of all the slaves on the island,
there's no one like Baboo. Andyou know what you'll do? What He'll
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invite you to his daughter's party tonightand make you a master. Do oh,
Baboo, when you're the master,please don't be there. We promise
to work hard for you, masterMaster. Please do with love half for
you master. Fools, you'll callyyourselves. Men the master's whip cracks in
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the air and you kiss his handfor body. You'll power your sweat into
the ground to buy pretty dresses forhis daughter, while you're happy to wrap
your own body in rags. Youthink you're brave, Yes, you're brave,
brave enough to sneer at the scarecrowin the fields. What's your glovey
and noses in the mud of theroad when the master's carriage passes. You're
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slaves are fools? Are saved becauseyou lull your misery with them till after.
I was born a free man,and I'll die a free man.
It's better to die for truth thanto live with lies. Law, God
laugh, you'll like drying nuts.You're rattle in the breeze. Boomber,
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kanga bayada, boomber. What's notyour singing bae book? Nothing monsieur would
look nothing, eh? Don't youknow a slave with burned last week at
the giprecciplantations for singing that song?No, monsieur, you're lying, bad
book. You've been a tuble makerever since you came here. There isn't
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the worst slave on the island.No, no monsieur, for brook,
I am going to teach you alesson, monsieur. Maybe this to teach
you not to sing. No.Oh, oh, my back feels like
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a dead thing for a little waterin He beat me too, for a
little water I didn't steal. Don'tworry, mostam beat. Someday all this
will change. Someday we'll be free, even if fools sometimes speak like wise
men, I worked hard, butboot you know, I worked hard,
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and they beat me. They beatyou, and they beat me, and
they beat us all not always withthe whip, but in ways more cunning,
in ways that eat more surely intothe bone. Chains make not only
a slave. They also dull theeyes and deep in the ears, and
put the nose the dead eyes awoman's faces. But the waving of a
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field of cane waiting to be cuta scarlet sky means nothing but a sweating
skin or worded forest. But thereare no forests in the mink cain is
more precious for the soil to fare, sweet straight cane for the mast.
A story teller's tongue is smooth theteeth cannot catch it. But an elephant
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brushes down trees and doesn't speak aword. There aren't enough men yet igness
unlessage came from the Duplasi plantation.Today, all over the island they're ready.
Listens. A man must be foundto lead us, a young man.
The day is coming. We willbe ready freedom if we take freedom.
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I worked hard one to free Icut the cane, one to free
business. The sun breaks through,tell me what to do. Listen,
and I will tell you at ladiesand gentlemen, No freedom and liberty.
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He Hubert to freedom with the butof politics, monsieur, it is much
too hot. Well tell us you, but what's the news from Paris?
But how can we speak of Pariswithout mentioning politics? But I'm going to
do yes, mother. There's notalk of anything in Paris today with the
revolution. The revel has gotten outof hands. Why even the offers closed.
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And these minor disturbances can't be avoidedin the great struggle for liberty and
freedom. But they needn't be sobrutich about it. Imagine a crowd of
undam stopped our carriage and made Hubertdown to each one and address let's get
this. I really don't know whatthis world is coming to it to be
dreadful here? What's the goodful?Lillie, just the bext man, Dear,
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they're city bating your engagement party too? Well, how's business every how
can it be? These ship ownersmust be stopped. First they keep the
price of slaves so high that we'rein debt to them over our ears.
And then to work off the debt, we produce more sugar. What happened
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the surplus plus the market and theprice of sugar fowl? So we have
to buy more slaves to produce more, we plunge farther into debt and hope
somehow to catch up. Ah,but it's hopeless. We're all bankrupt.
And I noticed that none of youhave suggested giving up your plantation since you
lose so much money. Where doyou get the chant here? Hubert?
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Who wants to hear a story?Who's that? Bebel? All of you
battek but my proudest throne? Wellyou want to hear the story or not?
It's American? Yes, I speakwhen I have something to say.
I speak only monkeys gabble to givethat teeth exercise? What's the story,
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babu? How would you all liketo be free? How would we like
to be free? How would youlike? I fact, I'd like to
be riched. Maybe they rained banana. Wait a minute, wait, don't
laugh. You're going to be free. Yes, it's true. We're to
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be sent home. Listen, agreat black king has been born, greater
and more powerful than any other king. He's coming to free us. He's
going to wipe away the black cloudthat hides our sun. He's building ships
to take us home. What's hisname? Yes, his name, his
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name's Thinka King, Thinka. Whydidn't you tell before Japan? Who told
you? I heard a voice inthe wind. Then there was a tremendous
crash of thunder in the sky.Open. I opened my eyes, and
King tak Us third before me.My name's King, Thinka, he said,
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And I've come to take all thestaves back home. I'm going to
make them free. For Taka thefair tony sing and dance. Tomorrow we'll
be free. Opinion of the slavesyet, or that it has formed their
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opinions early hard they had time toform an opinion. These so called humanitarians
think we're nothing but a set ofcool beasts who forced the naturally virtuous damage
to sleep for us. Well,I don't entirely approve of this system of
human servitude, that human servitude.Indeed, what about the workers in France
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who earned scarcely enough to add garlicto their diet of bread? Were so
miserable they blessed the judge who condemnedthem to life in the galleries of Toulon.
Have you seen such misery here?Not all overy? I certainly don't
approve of that either, the eternalarguments of the so called philosophers of France
apolectical theory, that's all. What'sthat time? Let's see what all the
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noise is about? The bottle goto Luck, make them stuff at song?
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It stells them up. Oh no, let them have their skills for
what I tell you, over luck. We're living on a powder belt and
we're going to tell the toot ourpills or Dolby. But you're pittimist,
laberries, no hubant. Happy theyare? They sing and dance like carefully
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to real Well, babuk, areyou ready to tell me who started the
story about the black Kings? It'snot so much fun to hang here by
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your wrists like a side of beefwith it, Captain, I won't have
you treat my slaves like this.It's obviously know who was nothing. Besides,
you're ruined him for work? AmI the military governor of the island
around? I not? This insanestory is disrupted the whole army. They've
been chasing around for a week lookingfor runaways. Besides, the slaves won't
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work. They stop and start tohowl like imbeciles, and all they can
say is treaca, treaca. Nowlisten to book. You'll hang like this
until your arms are pulled out fromyour chest if you don't tell. And
that's not all will do to you. Did you ever see a slave burn?
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You twist and groan and gaff forair, but it doesn't help you
burn just the same. You don'twant that to happen to you? Do
you no chapter? Well, thenall I want you to do is tell
me who started the story about theblack King. That's not so much to
do, is it? Tell mehis name? You can have the day
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off, no work to do allday. You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Come back book? If you're innocent, nob'll hurt you. Just tell
us who started the story. Youdon't speak your black savage around all the
reason? Why come on out withit? Who started that story? Maybe
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fifty lashes with a wet whip,will make you talk, you fly seven,
you will make you tuggle. Tryon, you tell me it must
think must They've got my book.Beat the drums, do all the phases
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of the forest. They've got mybook. They've got my book. Oh,
soldiery, let me down, Letme down, Soldier, I'll tell
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you who started the story. I'lltell you what. I can't stand it
anymore. Let me down. I'lltell you tell I mean, I'll let
you down. Let me down.Come near, all right, tell me
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let go, let go help.Oh goodbye, soldier. Oh we thought
you were dead dead. Why theycan't kill Babuk because Babuk isn't ready to
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die just yet. Books. Weall pray to dumble Out to save you.
Ah? What kind of men arewe that we should pray to Dambala
for the favor of the white masters. Haven't we any strength of our own?
At home? In our tribes?Did we do nothing but big?
Did our arms dangle wearily at oursides? Or did we sing a battle
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song and go out to fight?Aren't we men here too? Even the
enormous elephant fell before our spears?Ah? But there is better game than
that. Which runs on four feet. There's the best game of all the
beast that walks on two feet.Yes, we've been bitten often by snakes.
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But must we forever sire earthworms?What are we afraid of? When
the sun rises, Ignat will setfire to the cane at dupreece his plantation.
That will be the signal for therest. Then the others will set
fire to their field. No,don't bamboo. Listen to an old man.
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Listen before it's too late. Yourfury, your anger has made you
all blind. You're a handful here. What can you do against the guns
of the soldiers. There's the rightway the wrong way. We must not
kill, for what will we getbut blood? The spirit of Feedom is
in the air we breathe. Themasters cannot escape it. Ah. Wait,
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wait, you say, I say, we will not wait. You're
too used to the lash. Yourback cries for it. Ah. The
god of the Masters is thirsty forthe water of eyes. Must we weep
forever for that thaisty God is theKnower, the god in heaven less as
the god who gives the solis warmth. There's the god who lends the sea's
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anger and stalm his rage. Heis the god of the slaves. He
sees the evil of the masters riseup. He cries, rise up,
and some of the God of theMasters, out of the heavens. The
feistick God of the Master shall die. Yes, as the god who gives
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the sun its warmth, as thegod who lends the sea's anger and storm
his rage. He is the godof the slaves. He sees the evil
of the masters rise up. Hecries, rise up, and some of
the God of the Masters, outof the heavens. The peastick God of
the Master shall die. What isit? Who's there? The sky's flaming,
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The fields are on fire. Wewant to talk to you, missie.
Look the book. What are youdoing with that? Meshot? Go
out to stop the fire? Doyou hear me? Oh no, monsieur,
We're going to kill you, killme the book? Stop for god?
Say stop. Wow, guy,it's black with ashes. You can't
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tell whether we stay all night.Here is so heavy it's hard to breathe.
Pop Labory savage. You're driving mecrazy. Gentlemen, I called you
together here to discuss the defense ofa town. I think I do a
chance to whack like children do youthink we have a chance. The town's
well fortified. What made them doit? I don't understand what made them
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do it? You wouldn't, ButI understand, Monsieur Hubert, what made
them do it? You par andagitators don't be yes. Yes, your
philosophers filling the air with idle talkof liberty and fraternity and equality. You
split our throats at the grave ofdeath. You pray like jack at it.
It's you who deserve to die,not as slaves, your cowards a
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pray to face the world. Orperhaps you have looked and found it not
to your liking, so you blindyour eyes and your brain. I looked
and saw a dunghill, but Ithought men's hopes could change it, make
advantish. You looked and saw nothingbut your hearts beat a terrible warnings.
You don't want to know why theslaves revolts. Truth to you is only
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what you want to believe. Youdon't dare whisper to your tells, or
you'll never sleep again. It istreason. No call your own acts treason
cats, and you're under arrest.God, yes, kill me, kill
me. Perhaps that'll stop the rebels. I don't know what the world's coming
to stop those drums? Stop them, Somebody stop the gentleman. Yes,
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captain, let's do something. Let'sdo something. It's only one thing to
do. Patic of them, allloyal and rebel alike. They have already
come intacted these with lipertys. Thetown is well fortified, the trope's loyal.
I have already given orders for theconstruction of fifty new racking wheels and
a hundred now gallows. I'm anold man. Listen to me. Let's
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take to the boat and leave everythingbehind. Do you think we're fool?
Further alive fool than a dead time? Then the trope will haul them.
I hope, so, I hope, so I can stop. Please stap
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two days, we've waited two days. Why don't us come, Why do
we have to wait here? Let'sprotect the town. Will for the others.
Wait, wait, wait, I'mthick of waiting. A fool?
You think we can fight the soldiersalone? The drums are beating. The
others will know that we are ready. They'll come. What poison? Have
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you all drunk? You're missing forcowards? Yes me, don't you feel
it? Are you afraid of freedomtoo? Are you afraid to stand alone
on the hill, your face toa cloudless sky, your lungs breathing a
wind that has no master? Areyou afraid of the sun, the moon
and the saw? They're coming headed, They're coming, They're coming. Book
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are telling to tell you we're ready, Yes, saw, we the thogies
already too. I thought I'm puttingbig shiny pistols down the hill, big
shiny pistols, bigger than this musketpatant times bigger. And they put iron
balls in them, iron ball,iron boy, I see them their big
How it's true, iron balls andballs hold us back. It's just some
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new magic of the masters. Buttheir magic isn't any good anymore. Wam
can ready? Hi, Captain?Good? Remember, don't show till I
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give the order, Hi Captain?Then devils the way they beat those drums,
they're coming. Listen down the call. Remember, don't fire till I
give the order. What are theydoing now? Why don't they come quiet?
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Why don't they come ready? Men? High up? God? Why
don't you come back from wall?Hell? Hold you did you see them
run? Come on? We'll makeyou freeze? Lord, Come be lord
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and wait? Wait? See howthey like to taste on my feet.
Wait. Wait, children, let'sgo back and fight. Let to die
and to be slaves. Victory frommen, not cowege. Come on,
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sing, come up, come comeon, let us march death pains my
chest and hold ball my bat willsing for freedom, freedom, very high,
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make it time. Look at thefools read this is rushing in the
town. I've done it, I'vedone it, my cat holand more.
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Is deemed the judgment of this Assemblyelected by the citizens of the New Republic
of France in the year one,that the rights of men are helloed and
in violate wherever the flag of Franceshall f lie. Glorious principles of revolution,
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liberty, fraternity, and equality mustbe maintained, or the hopes and
sacrifices of mankind have been for naught. Thus we have proclaimed the sanctity of
the rights of property. They twoare sacred and in violence. As a
man, the slave was created freeand equal to all. But as a
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slave he is a property of hismaster, and so must remain in perpetua.
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A Columbia Workshop has presented Babu radioversion by Lester Fuller from his play
of Guyandore's book of the same nameEdward A. Blatt and Irving Reef's directors.
The Columbia Workshop is an experimental dramaticlaboratory which was established a year ago
by CBS to explore the dimensions ofthe oral plays, to try new techniques
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in their presentation, to encourage newwriters for the medium, and to experiment
with all forms of pure sound indrama at its effect. Our listeners,
your cooperation of interest helps us considerablyin determining the success or failure of these
experiments. The Workshop welcomes your suggestions, criticisms, and comments on its programs.
If you have a favorite story whichyou think would lend itself to unusual
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dramatization, write to the Director ofthe Columbia Workshop, care of the Columbia
Network, New York City, TUnear next week for Mister Sycamore, a
dramatization of John Eyre's unusual fantasy ofthe mail Man who Became a Tree.
This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.