Ezeudo is a Nigerian man who is in the midst of preparing for some sort of presentation. It is clear that it is something that is important, maybe the most important thing he’s done in his life in a long time. As the story unfolds, we learn that Ezeudo was born and raised for most of his childhood in Nigeria before coming to America. His family was tight nit, as was the village he was from. His focus in life stems from his childhood, growing up in a place of constant poverty with food and drinkable water deprivation. As has been a reality for many countries in Africa for decades he shares the struggles of having drinkable water, going to bed hungry and sharing his food with his two brothers and sister. They never wanted for love in their family; they had plenty of that but during one of the worst times of starvation and drought across the region his sister Chioma gets sick from hunger. His older brothers are gone; his parents are too old to make the trip so the village comes together. They collect food for him, as much as they have, he straps her to his back and begins to walk. This is a story of the love one man has for his sister in the midst of something that people take for granted… food. His speech is to the government in an effort to begin a program to aid Nigeria and their crisis, to build up an infrastructure. To save all the Chioma’s.
Crumbs
(Scene opens with Ezeudo, a Nigerian man in his late 20s stands rehearsing a speech. He flips through pages, writes, talks to himself, erases then speaks.)
(Reading) …it is because of this that I ask that I ask this body to commit to aiding in the support of- (Beat, shakes his head) no that doesn’t work it sounds desperate. (Thinking out loud) … reach a little deeper into your pockets in an effort to adjust the- no adjust sounds like a mismeasurement in the periodic table- … in an effort to…. (thinking) to umm… to… (he’s got it) … in an effort to save the lives of Nigerian children, build their economy and beyond, (smiles, closes the book and addresses the audience) I’m not a natural public speaker. (laughs) I’m not even a watered and well farmed speaker. Back in Nigeria my mother would tell me that the best way to be accepted in America is to remove myself from our roots, only on the outside. To present myself in a studious and respectful way so that no one who speaks to me recognizes that I am a proud African man (smiles) I remember telling her, “Mama, if they listen to my voice and decide how righteous or not of a man I am then that is their loss and they are not for me.” You see, I was the child that dreamed. I was the child that woke up every morning running into the kitchen, I say running even though it was only a matter of steps from my bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen to the front door. Our home was small but full of love and faith and I truly believe that is all you need.
