LIMA

Fosse Workshop

We're running late. Paul calls a cab and we head in the direction of the coast. I have no idea how many people are due to attend or what the space will be like. The cab drive lasts almost half an hour. A cab drive through a foreign city is always disarming. There are no reference points to reassure. Paul points out a vast archeological site. The cab darts through non-descript back streets. It emerges finally onto a busy six lane road. We stop in front of a Chinese beauty parlour set back from this main road. 

Paul leads the way into the beauty parlour. He introduces me to his mother. We climb a white, hospital-like staircase. There are strange machines in a back room. In another tiled, medical kind of space, there's two young women sitting waiting. Paul goes to make some photocopies. The women talk to me about Lima and the theatre world. They both have Indian blood and Indian coloured skin. They say that this is the greatest impediment to getting work and being accepted. They tell me that Peru is racist. Another young man appears. His name is Anthony. At first I think he's taking the piss. He's quite reserved, but he assures me his name really is Anthony. He says it's quite a common name in Peru. Paul comes back and says it's true. English names were very fashionable for a while. Which is why he's called Paul. His mum liked the Beatles.

These are the only four attendees. None of them know the work of Fosse. They are all looking for something new. They say texts are hard to come by in Peru. One of them is working on Not I, the Beckett play which is nothing but a speaking mouth. I say that it's a challenge. She says it's never been done there before. She likes it. Luckily, she has a big mouth.

When they work in pairs I go and stare out of the window at the traffic. There are tuk-tuks outside. It looks like Delhi. 

...