The Coffee Club

The Coffee Club

written by Noam Baharav

inspired by true events

BLANK SCREEN

Against black, TITLE CARD:

Across the street from the U.S. Consulate

Tel Aviv

1988

The blank screen and title card are illuminated out by the light of a lamppost, pan out to OR (meaning “light” in Hebrew), an 18 year old male Israeli Kibbutznik in worn denim shorts, white shirt, and flip flops, leaning against the lamppost.

1. EXT. HOSTEL - NIGHT

He is waiting in front of the high iron gate of Hashachar Hostel (meaning “The Dawn” in Hebrew). Across the narrow street there is a small parking lot, which lies in front of the U.S. Consulate. The parking lot night-guard is sitting on a stool in the doorway of the small guard stand making coffee on a beat up, black gas burner outside the stand. OR, looking alternatingly at the hostel and guard stand begins walking towards the guard.

2. EXT. GUARD STAND - NIGHT

We see OR looking up to the clock in the guard stand as he approaches. It reads 11:42

OR

How you doin’. Do you mind if I sit with you while I’m waiting?

MASAA

Please, Please, welcome, welcome.

MASAA (meaning “evening” in Arabic) the Palestinian night-guard (about 25 years old) with a large and welcoming smile gestures for OR to sit, looking around for a stool. He has a heavy Arabic accent. OR pulls up a cinder block laying in the parking lot and places it opposite the coffee burner, sitting down facing the guard. MASAA sits on his own stool looking down at OR and stirs the coffee. A red car drives into the parking lot next to the guard stand.

MASAA

You are waiting there long time.

OR

Yeah, I was waiting for my girlfriend. We planned to meet up with her friends but she already went out. She should be back any minute.

MASAA

Good thing coffee ready soon.

OR

It smells good. I probably would have fallen asleep against that lamppost, I rode the bus for an hour to get here. How far away do you live?

MASAA

I from refugee camp in the territories. I come to Israel to working.

MASAA brings two small ceramic coffee cups out of the guard stand.Traditional arab cups,(similar to western espresso cups) hardly ever washed and heavily stained with coffee. He pours the coffee.

OR

Shukran ya habibi.*

Where was your family before?

HISTORICAL NOTE: When the UN voted on the state borders for the new State of Israel in 1947, they divided the Promised Land into thin strips for the Jewish people, and the soon to be Palestinian State. Israel agreed to these territorial terms, but the seven surrounding Arabic nations did not, and declared immediate war on Israel. In 1948, as a result of that war, Israel conquered more territory, called the ‘67 boundaries. This caused a displacement of the Palestinian and Arab inhabitants of that land as they fled in fear of the Israeli army, leading to a migration of refugees to Yehuda and Shomron, or the West Bank. In 1967, during the Six Day War, the territory conquered, this time from Jordan was increased, to include all of the West Bank and along with it the Palestinian refugee camps, essentially slums. Israel built cities next to each impoverished refugee camp, however Palestinian leadership refused to allow the refugees to relocate from the slums to the newly built cities in order to demonstrate the injustice Israel had done them by displacing them from their homeland some three decades ago. Isolated from opportunity, shunned and rejected by neighboring Arab nations, the Palestinian refugees were a hopeless, homeless people. In Yehuda and Shomron now lived both the Arabs of the West Bank, those who had lived there for generations, as well as the three-decade-old refugees, all under the control of Israel. OR’s grandfather had fought in the 47 war and both his dad and grandad fought in the Six Days War, emerging as decorated war heroes. MASAA’s grandparents were among those who fled the conquered territories in 47 to establish refugee camps in the West Bank.

MASAA

Grandpa, grandma of mine was live near today is Yafo. They have once orchards. Are today in Yehuda and Shomron and too old for working. My Abbu** is work here here in Tel Aviv. Next two streets that tall building over there they building he is putting bricks like one you sit on now.

OR

Do your friends work here too?

MASAA

Some my friends works here, here in lot with me. Some works in Herzliyya wa*** Natanya.

OR

You live in the cities? Or do you go back to Yehuda and Shomron every day…

MASAA

Me wa me Abbu go home every weekend. Bus cost money wa we want save every day. I want go to school, be doctor for people back in camp. School cost much money, wa we no go home every day.

You, you were is you home?

The red car’s door slams in the parking lot, we hear a woman and man screaming at each other. Out of the car stumbles a woman (LILA, meaning “night” in Hebrew), and the red car drives towards the guard stand, throws 10 shekel out the window and drives off into the street as the woman totters over on high heels, chasing the car.

LILA

Asshole! Dirty son of a bitch, hope he dies, the fucking pig son of Satan! The motherfucking thief-rapist-molester should be fucking arrested, should have killed the son of a bitch and sold his whore mom to the pimps. Son of a bitch!

Shaking, her scarred faced badly covered in makeup, She sits on a concrete car blockade adjacent to the guard stand. She is extremely thin and pale, about 21 years old. She looks as if she’s high on heroin or meth.

LILA

Every night those fuckers pick me up and short me. I have a rate I tell them. I tell them! And then what? The fucking assholes, want everything and pay nothing.

MASAA leans back on his stool to bring out another coffee cup and pours her some as well, refilling his own and OR’s. She grabs the coffee, gulps it down, and returns the cup for more. She strokes her hand up and down her needle-poked arm in agitation as MASAA refills her cup. She looks lifeless. She leans back, and then jerks forward as if just remembering something.

LILA

Kus emek! Motherfucking cunt!

She starts looking for something. She runs to where the red car was parked and crawls on four, searching and cursing. She angrily stumbles back to the guard stand.

LILA

The shit took my necklace! I love that necklace and he took it, the asshole! Who would do that eh?!

She sits back down. With a look of realization, she reaches her hand down her skirt and fumbles around. She pulls out a necklace, laughing.

LILA

Oh here it is…

Ain’t nobody gonna take Lila’s necklace! That dumb ass rich boy couldn’t even find it down there, HAHAHAHA!

She sighs, wipes the necklace on her tank top and puts it on, content.

OR

It’s a nice necklace.

LILA

You think so, pretty boy? My momma gave it to me. That bitch.

She starts mumbling angrily and incoherently about her mom.

MASAA

Where you say you is from then?

What is you name?

OR

I’m Or. You?

MASAA

Masaa.

They shake hands.

LILA

Lila. At your motherfucking service.

Lila flops out her hand too to be shaken. They each shake her dead-fish-like hand gingerly, unsure where exactly down her skirt it had just been. She spastically returns it to clutching her coffee cup.

OR

I’m from Kibbutz Sdot Yam. You know where it is? It’s just an hour north of here, on the beach.

LILA

Love the beach! Hate that goddamn sun though…

MASAA

What you do there at beach all day?

OR

I sail boats in competitions. I’m actually going to be quitting soon though.

LILA

No good, eh?

OR

I’m not bad. I could have been on the Olympic team, but I’m going to the army.

MASAA

What you doing in Army?

OR

I’m not sure yet. Maybe flying planes. When I pass the course that’s probably what I’m going to be doing for a while. I’m starting my testing soon, and then I’ll know for sure.

NOTE: In Israel, the army is the cultural equivalent of college in the United States. The social hierarchy is determined based upon what one does/did in the army, much like how in America social hierarchy is based on where one went to school. Pilots, elite special forces, and high level or secret intelligence units’ members are considered the equivalents of Ivy League graduates, whereas army cooks, mailmen, or drivers can be equated to those who didn’t graduate high school. Drug addicts and refugees are not committed to service.

MASAA

Army planes? I see them as little boy, I would want to flying too.

OR

My dad’s a pilot. I’ve watched him fly my whole life. We used to live on base together, and then they sent me to live with all the other kids over on the Kibbutz.

MASAA

What kind of testing you doing?

OR

All kinds, if you’re smart, if you’re good with other people, bootcamp. I was supposed to do this all last year, but i’ve been doing a service year instead, figuring things out. I wanted to see who I’m trying to be; what I want to do.

LILA

And did you figure it all out?

He pauses.

OR

What about you Lila? Are you serving?

LILA

Me? The army don’t want no Lila. I’m good where I am. I don’t need no uniform. Nobody tellin me what to do or where to go.

MASAA

But you is wearing uniform, no? Like all of us. I is wear a guard uniform, but I want to wear doctor’s. Or is beach boy, but want to wear a pilot suit. And you wear uniform too. This is not you real clothes. This is night lady clothes. What you want to wear?

She pauses.

The moment of stillness ends.

LILA

What, you don’t like my skirt? You’re shit out of luck then, buddy.

And you? A doctor! We ain’t gettin nowhere in this world, you and me. Pretty boy here’s gonna fly away though, ain’t ya?

A taxi pulls up in front of Hashachar Hostel. Four 18 year olds get out, laughing. A girl with short black hair, OR’s girlfriend STAV (meaning the season “Fall” in Hebrew), looks around at the guard stand and sees OR with MASAA and LILA. We see her from across the parking lot, over the steam of the coffee on the burner.

STAV

Or!

She waves at him. He looks up at the clock. It reads 4:02 AM

MASAA

Looking like your girlfriend back.

OR

Yeah! Thank you, for the coffee, and for the company. Good luck. To you both.

LILA

Yeah, good luck pretty boy.

MASAA

Ahsalam alekum.****

OR

Wa alekum al salam.*****

Or stands up, shakes MASAA and LILA’s hands, props the cinder block back, and walks towards STAV. He takes her hand and looks back at the two. We see them sipping coffee and talking. OR turns around and walks through the hostel gate. Fade out.

THE END

* Shukran ya habibi: Thank you friend (Arabic)

** Abbu: Dad (Arabic)

*** Wa: and (Arabic)

**** Ahsalam alekum: Peace be on you (Arabic)

***** Wa alekum al salam: And peace be on you as well (Arabic)