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Under the Pith Helmet

by Alan R. Wolcott

Kids are at the Rink-O-Roller for a skating party. Skit opens with Alicia sitting at the side. Amanda and Travis “skate” up, so that Travis can sit down. Amanda is keeping him upright as he can barely skate.

Amanda:

Here, Travis, better park your bakery truck for awhile. We’ll try some more driver’s ed in a few minutes after I find a crash helmet and call the rescue squad.

Travis:

(ruefully) Gee, thanks. (Staggers over to bench).

Amanda:

Maybe Alicia can keep you company. She doesn’t skate upright, either. But at least she has an excuse...she spent the last 4 years in Papua New Guinea. (Introduces them to one another.) Travis, this is my cousin, Alicia. Alicia, this is Travis.

Together:

Hi! (Amanda skates away, they watch).

Alicia:

What does she mean about your “bakery truck”, Travis?

Travis:

(slightly embarrassed) Well, I think...I...well I think it’s just a dumb joke.

Alicia:

What is?

Travis:

She means to sit down, so I don’t have to keep hauling my buns off the floor. You know, that’s what a bakery truck does, right?

Alicia:

I guess so. Where I come from there aren’t any.

Travis:

Really? Oh yeah, she said you were from “Popeye New Guinea” or something. Ever see Brutus and Olive Oyl? Just thought I’d ask.

Alicia:

Papua! Papua. Papua New Guinea, Mr. Laser Brain. It’s an island near Australia. One half is called Irian Jaya. But where we live it’s called Papua New Guinea.

Travis:

Okay. Besides not learning how to skate, what do you do over there? Is your mom some kind of scientist, studying pygmies or weird bugs or something?

Alicia:

(laughing) No. They’re missionaries. They’re part of a team translating the Bible and teaching people how to read so they can use it.

Travis:

(surprised) You don’t look like a missionary!

Alicia:

What’s that supposed to mean?

Travis:

Well, I always thought missionaries and their kids had to wear those khaki safari clothes and a pith helmet. Shouldn’t you also have a spear or something, too?

Alicia:

Right. And a plate through my upper lip, too. Welcome to the 21st century pal. Even if we don’t have roller rinks we do have e-mail, and CNN from a TV dish. It’s a small world.

Travis:

So what are you doing here?

Alicia:

My parents are visiting with the churches and people who help support us. It’s a bit embarrassing and I’m already homesick.

Travis:

Really?

Alicia:

Everywhere we go we get put on display. It’s like we’re some sort of circus attraction: “See the kids from Papua New Guinea. Touch them, pinch them, ask them to say something cool in a foreign language...” In PNG my white skin and blonde hair show me to be the foreigner. But here, I can’t skate, have never heard half the music people listen to, and don’t have any friends—it’s been 4 years since we were here...

Travis:

I never thought of it like that.

Alicia:

Oh well, you’re not what I expected either...We had heard that most teenage boys had an ear ring. I didn’t know they were so good at the triple “klutz.”

Travis:

You’ve been talking too much to Amanda!

(Amanda skates up immediately. Brings pillow and First Aid kit)

Amanda:

Good news, Travis! I found you a new bumper (holds up the pillow). Now all you need is a nurse—(calls)—hey, Jen!, over here. Travis needs a Florence Nightingale.

Travis:

(stands and scans worriedly) Sheesh! Gotta go! See you Alicia. By the way, what did you say your last name was?

Alicia:

I didn’t. It’s Macbeth. Alicia Macbeth.

Travis:

Whoa! See if you can get Shakespeare here (points to Amanda) to write me out of Jen’s script. This bakery truck’s got a PNG delivery...(he leaves quickly).

Girls look at each other, shrug, say together: Travis...?