Afghan brothers keep alive memory of sibling in play
‘AMIRI FAMILY’S POIGNANT STORY CAPTURES HOPE, COURAGE AND GRATITUDE’
HAMED AMIRI and Hessam Amiri’s The Boy with Two Hearts, adapted for the stage by Phil Porter, is now on at the National Theatre.
Eastern Eye readers will be familiar with the book, which we covered on July 3, 2020, when it was first published, and on September 23, 2022, we had a curtainraiser about its staging at the National.
The two hour 10 minute play, including the interval, is in two halves. The first half and a little of the second is taken up by the Amiri family’s fraught and dangerous journey in the year 2000 from Herat in Afghanistan, ultimately, to Cardiff. The family decides to flee Afghanistan after Fariba risks her life by making a speech against Taliban. She has the support of her husband, Mohammed, while their three sons, Hussein, Hamed and Hessam, who are 14, 10 and seven, respectively, are initially excited by the prospect of the adventurous journey ahead.
Although this is one of those plays which could be done with a large cast, all parts are managed by the five members of the Amiri family.
Mohammed and Fariba are played by Dana Haqjoo and Houda Echouafni, and the boys, Hussein, Hamed and Hessam by Ahmad Sakhi, Farshid Rokey and Shamail Ali, respectively.
The director, Amit Sharma, had managed to get excellent performances from all five so they do come across as one family. Despite the sibling rivalry, the boys, who are football mad and Man U fans, remain “brothers for ever”.
It is Hussein who has the dodgy heart, which is the main reason the Amiris head for Britain. Although devoted NHS care and umpteen operations give him an extra 17 years of life in the UK, during which he manages to go to university and get a degree, I found his passing hard to bear.
What adds to the pathos are the songs in Farsi, the language of the Amiri family, sung by pop singer Elaha Soroor, who was born in Iran and lived in Afghanistan before moving to the UK. She brought back memories of a singer called Googoosh I loved during my Iran days.
But the message at the end is that “this is not a sad story, but a story of thanks”.
Press night was the day after the home secretary Suella Braverman had addressed the Tory party conference in Birmingham, in which she had announced her determination to cut down on illegal immigration. Were she to succeed, families such as the Amriris would be disqualified from being given asylum in Britain. They considered themselves to be “refugees” and treated as such by the authorities, rather than illegal immigrants.
Hamed, with his wife, Kate, and Hessam were present for press night. Yes, said Hamed, their parents had seen the play. “It’s very difficult for them,” he said.
We agreed that over two decades on from when they had fled Afghanistan, nothing had changed so far as the Taliban were concerned.
Fariba’s speech in defence of freedom for women could be made today. “A life in which they are no more than servants for their husbands. Slaves, even! Is this what we want for our daughters and granddaughters? This is what the Taliban wants! They tell us it is Allah’s will for women to cook and clean and obey without question, nothing more. But, Allah knows, a woman is so much more than this! We have brains, we have voices, we have just the same rights as men!”
She says: “We have just the same rights as men. To an education! To work where we please, go where we please, make our voices heard. We must show courage, unite and take back what these bullies have stolen from us. We must take back out future from the monsters. Take back freedom for the women of Afghanistan.”
When told the Taliban were out to get her, her response was: “They plan to kill me for speaking the truth?”
There is almost a lighthearted jolly jape atmosphere about the Amiri family’s travels to Sangatte camp in France, via months in Moscow, Austria and Belgium. Clever tricks show the family squeezed into the boots of cars or boxes inside lorries.
Being a refugee reduces everyone to the same level. As Fariba notes, “Soran (one of the people smugglers) shows us into a container full of others. Parent, grandparents, children, even babies, Christian, Muslim. Many pairs of eyes shine in the dark, all frightened, all hopeful.”
What is heart rending is the losing battle to save Hussein. By and way, the bad days outnumber the good.
Shamail Ali, who plays Hessam, doubles up as Dr Navroz Masani, a Parsi Indian origin consultant cardiologist at the University Hospital of Wales in Cardiff.
Hussein’s medical problems are complicated, but the play manages to explain them in simple terms to the audience. At one point, Dr Masani talks as though addressing a group of medical students in the audience: “Hussein has frequent episodes of ventricular tachycardia, often precipitated by stress or exercise, leading to breathlessness and blackouts. So what do we call this kind of abnormality?”
He ticks off his “bloody hopeless” pupils: “Come along, let’s not always see the same hands. Arrhythmia, yes. Despite several procedures, one side of Hussein’s heart is working harder than the other, causing it to become lopsided and affecting the regulation of the
heartbeat. What do we recommend as a next step?”
He suggests a course of treatment: “Given that Hussein is still growing I would prescribe an anti-arrhythmic until Hussein is fully grown, at which point further surgery is most likely.”
The audience is with the family all the way. As Hussein is referred to a cardiologist called Mr Haw in Southampton, Fariba gives an insight into what the family is going through: “Life becomes a kind of loop of tests and results and tests and results. Several attempts are made to rest Hussein’s heart with electric shocks. He’s given a drug to calm the rhythm of his heart which saves his life more than once. But the side effects are bad, making him sick and turning his skin a bluish colour.”
A pacemaker gives Hussein “seven good years”, but he is against the next step – a heart transplant. “But it’s not the same, Hamed!” he tells his brother. “This heart is mine – I don’t want someone else’s. It’s like an old friend. A bit of a rubbish one, I admit, but it’s stuck around. I’m so grateful for the life I’ve had... But I’ve been ill my whole life, there is no magical fresh start. This is my heart, my decision. Please, you all have to accept this.”
It is over four years since Hussein died, aged 31, on July 11, 2018. The play helps to ensure that he lives on.
The Boy with Two Hearts is at the National Theatre until November 12, 2022